Generation
by Ameraka
Summary: Just recovering from the events of A New Life, Connie and Jason are invited to an event that they think will be a new start for them. But soon they meet an old friend and are enticed into a world of intrigue and mystery, while Whit is on a secret mission of his own. What will these events mean for the future of the Whittaker family? [notes, replies to unsigned reviews in Profile]
1. Forget-me-not

Connie held Jason's hand as they walked into the wilderness. The sunlight caught his features, showing his strong profile, the outline of the planes of his face, the scar on his left cheek. So perfect. How had she taken him for granted? So soon after they were married, how had she possibly ignored someone so beautiful?

Losing the baby had shattered her, diverted her affections, dulled everything. Without that, everything would have grown more wonderful each day as she got to know him, nothing to intrude on their happiness. She should never have let it go so far; she should have mourned the baby and moved on. He had lost the baby too but hadn't tried to retreat into oblivion.

She was moving on now. She had to. She couldn't dwell on the pain anymore, and she realized how unhealthy it was. How much of a toll it had taken on their relationship. Could they ever go back to the way it was? There had to be a way she could make it up to him, but she didn't know how. What did he need? She wasn't sure, but she wanted to give him everything possible. She thought showing him the place she should have shared with him might be a good place to start.

"It's this way," she said, and led him on the path through the grass, now hardly visible since she hadn't been here for several days.

"This _is_ off the beaten track," he said.

"Yes, well I wanted to escape. It helped me."

"I can see why."

She stopped, looked at him. "Jason, I can't get over how I treated you."

"Connie, after the second time Gray captured me—I was a wreck. I almost left you. You stayed with me through all of that and helped me get better. I wanted to do all I could to help you this time, especially since he was our baby. I just wish I could've helped you more."

"You did all you could. I just wouldn't let you. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry. I get how much it hurt—I felt it too."

"That's why I should've been with you instead of…disappearing like I did. I don't know if I can ever make it up to you."

"You don't have to."

She led him into the trees, the canopy of leaves diffusing the sunlight into rays of gold. A stream glittered through the grass; birds trilled in the air, echoing like music from a fairytale.

Large flat rocks lay by the stream and she sat down on one. Jason sat down beside her. She slipped off her shoes and dangled her feet in the cool water.

"This is a beautiful place. No wonder you came here."

"I couldn't go any longer without sharing it with you. Now that we're…better."

He smiled. Brought his hand to her hair. She closed her eyes as his fingertips brushed her cheek. When his fleeting touch withdrew, she yearned for more. How had she gone so long without him? She didn't want to rush this. After all that had happened, she didn't want to destroy what they had by going too fast. She wanted to savor every moment of being with him.

He slid his bare feet into the water next to hers. They sat there on the sun-warmed rock, the water gurgling a constant melody. Minnows flashed like silver. A little ways down the opposite bank, a cluster of lavender flowers grew.

"Are those forget-me-nots?" she said.

"Looks like it. A little late for them."

"They're so pretty. I didn't notice them before."

"I'll get them for you."

"You don't have t—"

But he had already jumped off the rock into the stream. The water surged against his legs, sloshing against his pants where they were rolled up to his knees. He walked diagonally through the stream, reached the other side, and snatched up the bunch of flowers that hung over the bank. Then he came back. Just as he reached her, he slipped and fell to his knees in the water.

She reached for him. "Oohh, Jason, are you okay?"

He grasped her hand. "Yes, I'm fine. I saved the flowers, see?" He gave her the forget-me-nots with his other hand and climbed onto the rock beside her.

"You're soaked!"

"Not a big deal."

"Wet jeans aren't comfortable."

"They'll dry out. Small price to pay." He smiled wryly.

"They're beautiful." She breathed in their scent, the tiny flowers tickling her nose. Forget-me-nots….She never wanted to forget Jason or take him for granted. What he'd just done, he did every day in so many different ways as he expressed his love for her. How could she deserve someone like him?

"Jason." She turned to him. Her voice caught. "I never ever want to forget about you like that. It shouldn't matter what happens. We're supposed to be in this together."

"That's basically what we vowed when we were married."

"I thought I took it seriously—I mean, how could I not—but then the baby—and I guess I just wanted happiness so much that when something bad happened I couldn't deal with it."

"It was so soon after we were married. No wonder it nearly tore us apart. We hardly had the foundation of marriage…."

"It's not like it doesn't happen to other people. They deal with it."

"We had so many things happen we hardly had a chance to recover. We needed some happiness and then—" Tears hovered in his eyes. "God knows what he's doing."

"That's another thing. I didn't trust God in all of this."

"At least we know our baby's in heaven now. We'll meet him for real someday."

Tears spilled from her eyes and she reached for him and he embraced her, nearly crushing the flowers. "I will see him again," she said, hope filling her, spreading over the piercing sorrow like the dawn blazing through darkness.

She brushed back the lock of hair falling over his forehead, caressed his face. "You never know how long you have, do you?"

"Till death do us part. After that, we'll be together again."

"I don't want to waste the time I have here." She grasped his hand. "Now that I know what pain can do, I really know what those vows mean now. More than I did before. I will stand by you no matter what happens, in good times and bad times. I'll come to you instead of running away and we'll get through it together because we need each other. I don't want to hurt you, ever."

He squeezed her hand. "You're more important to me than anything in this world. You're worth so much more than anything I could ever give you. I love you, Connie, with all my heart."

"I love you too, Jason." She kissed him gently on the lips. He kissed her slowly, tenderly, like they had at their wedding, his hand against the back of her neck, hers against his cheek.

He leaned back and they grasped each other's hands and bowed their heads.

"Dear Lord," prayed Jason, "thank you that we will see the baby again someday. Thank you for bringing Connie into my life and help me to protect her and love her with all my heart. I pray that You would strengthen our relationship and help us grow stronger every day. Help us to know the right thing and to follow You and not get sidetracked. Help me to always think of Connie first, and help us to know the next steps to take—"

Just then, Jason's cell phone rang.

Jason grabbed for the phone in his pocket. Still damp, it slid out of his hands and clattered onto the rock. He snatched it up. "It's Dad."

"You better take it."

Jason lifted the phone to his ear. "Hi, Dad. What's up?" A silence as he listened. His brow furrowed. "Hold on. Is something wrong?"

Connie's heart flipped. "Is Whit okay?" She couldn't help but leap to the worst-case scenario.

"He's fine….Yes, Dad, Connie's here…..Oh."

"What is it?"

"Dad wants us to go to Chicago. No—DC."

"What?"

"I'll tell you in a minute." He continued talking to Whit while Connie waited and wondered what could be going on.


	2. Anticipation

Jason hung up, his heart fluttering at the turn of events. He looked at Connie who had an apprehensive, expectant look on her face. Her green eyes stunned him with their beauty; for a moment he couldn't remember what his father had just said.

"What happened?" said Connie.

"Nothing yet. It's weird but—Dad didn't sound like himself. That's why I was concerned at first. He said nothing was wrong, just that he's going to Chicago."

"What for?"

"He said he was going for UPF, but I have a feeling that he's leaving something out. When I asked all he said was, 'I don't want to tell you till I know for sure.' I have no idea what he meant by that."

"So what did you mean by going to DC?"

"Well here's the other interesting part. Dad was invited to DC by the Agency. Seems they want to honor him—off the record of course—for fifty years of service. Because he has to go to Chicago, he can't go to DC and he wondered if I wanted to go for him. You could go too, if you want."

"I do."

"I thought you might. Just keep in mind, it will involve fancy parties, and hotels, and dresses and staying up late and getting up late….I don't know if you'd want to go."

"Jason, are you kidding me! Oh. You are." She slapped him lightly on the shoulder. "You know me. That sounds like the kind of adventure I'd like. It doesn't involve danger, does it?"

He shook his head. "Not unless you mean the DC heat. It can get brutal, believe me. Anyway, we'll be inside most of the time. We're invited to a reception for some ambassador or other. We don't have to go— we could just pick up the award later—but I thought you might like to."

"It sounds like fun!"

"It can kind of be like another honeymoon. Our last one got cut a bit short. We can stay in the best hotels, and I can treat you to the best DC has to offer."

"You don't have to be so extravagant as that!"

"You're worth it."

"After all you've done—I can never repay you."

"You do. All the time." His heart ached with love for her. He'd been with her, but without her, for so long that everything she did satisfied him completely yet drove him crazy with longing. Every look she gave him that burned with love tore him to the core and yet he had to be careful to take it easy, not drive her away. Be extra attentive to her every need, do whatever she wanted, do whatever he could to avoid ever going back to living with that agonizing distance between them.

"When are we supposed to go?" she asked.

"Here's the thing—we have to leave tomorrow."

"Tomorrow!"

"Is that okay?"

She looked away, holding the flowers close to her chest. Then she looked back at him, her eyes sparkling with guarded excitement. "I can't live my life afraid something might happen. Let's do it."

"Just so you're sure."

"As long as you want to."

"I really don't care as long as I'm with you. This could be just what we need. Something out-of-the-ordinary to help us move on, and then we can come home and get back to normal."

"Better than normal."

"Better than normal." He nodded. "We'd better start getting ready."

"And we can put these flowers in some water before they get completely destroyed."

Jason climbed off of the rock, feeling a bit stiff. _I'm not as young as I once was…and all my injuries don't help. I'm like a football player—out of the game by 40._

He grasped Connie's hand as she stepped off the rock, clutching the flowers. After putting her shoes on, she walked beside him back through the trees. His jeans were cold and soggy from falling into the stream, but that was nothing. He'd go through a thousand times worse than he ever had to bring Connie happiness.

Across the field, they reached the car at the edge of the gravel road and drove back to Odyssey. Back at home, Connie stuck the flowers in a vase and put them on the table. Sunlight shone through their translucent lavender petals.

She stood silhouetted against the light. To touch such an astonishing being—how had he ever dared entertain the thought? He could never reconcile the fact that someone so beautiful in so many ways had chosen him. He should be content that she deigned to look at him. And yet—he couldn't help but need more of what she was every second.

He stepped up to her. Reached toward her, then stopped. He had to let her take the initiative; he couldn't presume she needed his touch as much as he needed hers.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her eyes caught his, mesmerizing him, freezing him in place. Her lips, so devastatingly perfect….

"I suppose it's time to pack," she said.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'd better call Dad back and finalize our flight."

"Okay! I'll get our suitcases out." And she dashed upstairs, oblivious of her effect on him.

He called his father back on his cell phone. Thankfully it hadn't gotten soaked in the river, just a little residual dampness.

"Hi, Dad."

"Hi Jason. What have you decided?"

"We want to go. Connie's excited about it."

"Wonderful. I might have given you the opportunity even if I wasn't going to Chicago. This way I have a good excuse. You'll enjoy it more than I would, anyway."

"I want to treat her, do everything I can for her, and show her how much I love her. It seems like if I did everything I possibly could for her it would never be enough."

"That's because your love can't be contained by material things—it goes far beyond that."

"I want to give her everything I can, but at the same time I have to hold back because I don't know what she wants."

"Sometimes love is restraint as much as it is expression. Love is patient."

"I know. But part of my love is selfish—I need her, I can't stand any sort of distance between us especially after all that happened—but I have to put her needs first."

"That's true. But you're a partnership now. Your needs are important too. You should tell her about how you feel, what you need and want."

"Yeah. I suppose so. I just don't want to do anything that might—I mean, so close to what happened, things are fragile now, I don't want to go too fast or do something that might ruin what we have."

"Just make sure you communicate in love what you are thinking when the time is right. And give yourselves some credit. You had a good foundation before you were married. You complement each other, and you are both strong, compassionate people. You can work any issue out if you want it enough, with God's help."

"Thanks, Dad. I just want to make sure that the foundation we rebuild is strong. I don't want to risk it falling apart again."

"This was a horrible test it had to go through. It was neither of your faults—and Connie went through it in a different way than you did. It would've shaken anyone's foundation. Now that you've weathered this test, it's unlikely to happen again."

"That's part of it, though. She's afraid that something is wrong, that she won't ever be able to have a healthy baby. I'm okay with it, if she doesn't want to have a child….I get why she'd think that way and I don't want to push the issue. I definitely don't want to bring it up so soon. But Dad, I—" His voice caught. "I want kids. I want to see little Connies and Jasons running around. I want—I'm sorry, I shouldn't be talking about this to you when I can't talk about it to her."

"It can help to talk about it. Eventually, you'll have to deal with this."

"Another thing we have to deal with…eventually. Right now I want to focus on this trip.

"By the way, are you all right, Dad?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Your last phone call…"

"It's nothing."

"So you're going to Chicago, skipping the Agency's invite, for _nothing_?"

"Well….it could be nothing. I'm sorry, I don't want to be so mysterious, but it's something that could concern you, and I don't want to say anything till I know for sure. Once you're back from DC, I should know."

"Okay. I'll have to be satisfied with that. But you know me, I can't just let things go, it's my job to find out secrets, remember?"

"I'll tell you as soon as I know one way or another."

"Just so you're okay."

"I'm fine."

"Good." Jason wasn't totally convinced, and he was mystified about his dad's behavior. But he'd just have to wait and find out later. Time to get ready to go to DC with Connie.

He said goodbye and took his laptop to the couch and looked up the airline. He found 2 tickets for 6:30 a.m. but he didn't want to book them before he asked Connie. That flight was pretty early. So he went upstairs to their room.

She stood with her back to him in front of the closet, sliding clothes hangers apart. Her half of the closet was almost empty. Most of the clothes were piled on the bed, smothering the suitcases.

"Connie?"

She turned around. "What?" Her hair was disheveled, a strand fallen enticingly over her cheek.

"We don't need to bring the whole closet. Unless you're planning to stay longer than a couple days."

She spread her hands, making an exasperated noise. "I don't have anything to wear! Some of these are okay for a party here in Odyssey, but in DC they'd look like something from the thrift shop! Some of them _are_ from the thrift shop!" She gestured to the dresses on the bed.

He picked up a lavender one. "What about this one?"

"Jason, that's just some old sundress, I don't even wear that now. I should throw it out." She snatched it from him and tossed it onto the floor.

"What about this one?" He picked up a white dress.

"That's my wedding dress. It's like the best one I have but I can't exactly wear that." She took it from him and cradled it in her arms.

"What about the dresses you wore in Paraguay?" He dug in the pile again, a little more judiciously, and pulled out a melon-colored one that he remembered her wearing and being spectacular in. But then, she looked good in anything.

"That's more for a day at the beach or going shopping. I don't really have a good formal evening dress."

He tossed it back on the pile. "Well, we could go buy one."

She sighed. "That's what I'll have to do. I'll just zip out to the mall tonight and see if I can find something."

"Or if we took an early flight we could go shopping in DC."

Her eyes lit up. "Really? I bet they have amazing shopping centers out there. They'd have anything I'd want. I don't want to get something too expensive, though. How early is the flight?"

"Six-thirty. We'd get there by 10:30 or 11."

"Well, that'd give us enough time to shop. Or me, anyway—you don't have to come along."

"I'll probably just wear what I wore to our wedding. But I'll come along, if you don't mind."

"You sure?"

He nodded. "Is six-thirty too early though? We'll have to get up at 5 and go to bed at like 9."

"That's okay. I'd better get packed. I'll pack a default dress just in case, but no guarantee I'll be able to step out in public in it." She carefully hung her wedding dress back in the closet. Jason helped her hang up the other dresses and packed his clothes while she debated what clothes to pack in her suitcase.

"You know," he said, "it doesn't matter what you wear. Not to me. You are always beautiful."

"I saw myself in the mirror after I came upstairs. I'm a mess."

"I've never seen a more beautiful mess." He stepped over to her.

He hesitated to touch her but she took his hand in hers, threading her fingers through his. She slipped her other hand into his hair and gave him a slow, soft kiss. Shivers raced down his skin at her touch.

She pulled back. "Thank you, Jason."

"For what?"

"For being so….Jason." She smiled.

She continued packing while he went down to fix supper. They had dinner together, the forget-me-nots as a centerpiece, and then sat on the porch to watch the sunset while the crickets hummed a constant melody.

Then they headed upstairs and crawled into bed. She curled up beside him, a contented look on her face. Soon she fell asleep.

He knew he should sleep too because it would be a long day tomorrow, but his heart kept pounding in a fevered anticipation.

He tried to make his thoughts quiet down; he used to have no trouble going to sleep, even before a dangerous mission. Looking at her, he gloried in the curve of her porcelain cheek in the dark. He longed to touch her but dared not disturb her, settling for brushing back one lock of hair from her cheek. She stirred, snuggling closer to him, smiling in her sleep. He wrapped his arm around her and she laid her head against his chest. Secure and warm beside her, he let sleep creep up on him, and soon it claimed him without resistance.


	3. Extravagance

"How about this one?" said Connie. She stepped out of the dressing room in a red dress she wasn't too sure about.

"That's beautiful," said Jason.

"That's what you said about the last five."

"I told you, as long as you're in them, you're all I see."

"But I can't just wear anything to the party."

"Why not? They won't care."

"They're high society. That's what they care about."

"That and national government."

She frowned. "That's another thing. Maybe we should just skip this party and have a night on the town instead. I'm not exactly…a government type. I won't know what they're talking about." A pang of panic pierced her when she thought of it. How had she dared to come here? She'd gotten all caught up in the excitement of it, her first real night out after…everything. And it hadn't hit her until she was on the flight over that she wasn't really cut out for this type of thing. Parties, sure. But an ambassador's reception? She'd make a fool out of herself. Not know which fork to use and that kind of thing. Trip on her high heels probably.

"Connie, a lot of their wives and husbands and others will be there."

"They're still a part of that life."

"A bunch of Agency people will be there. They're not exactly conventional….though they do know how to blend in. We can sit with people I know, and you can only talk to me if you want. Everyone will rave about the mysterious belle of the ball." He smiled. "Besides, you do fit in. You are the wife of an agent—or a wife of an ex-agent. You have a right to be mysterious."

"I'll probably just fall on my face."

"Just stay close to me. It'll be our night. We'll have fun together and won't care about anything else. If anyone bothers you, I'll protect you."

The fierce look in his eyes sent tingles through her. He looked ravishing now, in his casual clothes—she couldn't wait to see him in his suit tonight.

She wished she could step up to him and kiss him but there were people in the store. Who cared. But…there would be time for that later.

"I'll just try on this one more dress and then we can go to a different store."

"Okay."

She swept back into the dressing room and took the glittering blue dress off the hanger. It was gorgeous—a little too much so. It'd bury her in its beauty. But maybe that was the point. Still, it was probably too expensive. She'd just try it on for fun.

She took off the dress she was wearing and slipped into the other one. The zipper was hard to pull all the way up in the back, but with a bit of contortion she made it.

She stepped back and looked in the mirror. For a moment, she didn't recognize herself; the image in the mirror looked like a modern-day princess. Of course, her hair was a bit messy and staticky from trying on the dresses. But otherwise—wow. It fit her in all the right places, and the color brought out the blue tints in her eyes, and the magnificent flare of the skirt would be perfect for dancing. Ah, to dance with Jason on the dance floor….let everything else melt away except his eyes, his touch….

She looked at the price tag and gasped. "No, I can't get this one," she said under her breath, disappointment hitting her. It was so perfect….Well, sometimes it was fun to try on clothes even if you weren't going to buy them. Where else would she wear this, anyway?

She stepped out of the dressing room. Jason looked up from his iPhone. At first he just stared at her. Then he said, "That's it. That's the dress."

She twirled slowly around for him, reveling in the feel of the fabric, its rustle, its glitter. For a moment, she could pretend that she would keep it.

He stood and laid his hand lightly on her back, just above where the fabric met her skin. He took her hand in his, gazing into her eyes. He swept her slowly around and then tipped her backwards, as if the finale of a dance.

"Ah!" she cried, surprised. A couple people in the store looked at them.

He tipped her back up and kissed her on the lips. "That's just a taste of what we'll do tonight."

"I can't wait."

"I'll have to fight off a few guys for you."

She frowned. "I can't get this dress, though."

"Why not?"

"It's too expensive." She showed him the tag.

He barely looked at it. "The price doesn't matter."

"Are you crazy?"

"I told you, I want to treat you."

"But can we afford this?"

"We can't afford to live like this all the time. But tonight—we're going all out. If this is really the one you want, I'll get it."

"Well…" She looked down at its shimmering sapphire blue. "I do want it. It's not something I'll ever wear again, though."

"Who knows. If you have fun tonight, maybe we can come out here occasionally."

She fingered its fabric, a little hesitant still. "But is it too much? Maybe I should get something less…showy."

"You deserve a dress that's fit for a queen." He took her hand and bowed over it, kissing it.

"Jason, we're in a store."

"I don't care. You're the only one here to me."

She went back into the dressing room and changed into her shirt, pants and boots. Now she'd have to find some shoes to go with the dress. Her head spun. She could hardly believe he was getting this dress for her. But delight spilled through her when she thought of it.

In a different store, she bought some blue strappy high heels to go with the dress. Jason assured her that he'd get anything—within reason, of course, not some haute couture thing. She assumed, anyway. She didn't want to press her advantage too much.

As she was walking out of the massive shoe store, she spied a jewelry store and they went over to look at it just for fun. In the window glittered a necklace with a brilliant sapphire. It caught her eye at once and she stood mesmerized at the iridescent fire blazing inside of it, almost like it had a glowing heart of its own. It would go perfect with her dress. But she didn't want Jason to think she wanted it—he'd already done so much. So she stepped back and walked along the aisle looking at the other rings and necklaces, only half seeing them, the sapphire still gleaming in her mind.

Jason caught up with her. She doubted he actually enjoyed shopping; they should get back to the hotel anyway and get ready.

"Do you want anything in here?" he asked.

"No, I don't need anything."

"That sapphire would match your dress."

"It's too extravagant, Jason."

"I've hardly gotten you anything, though, if you think about it. Our life together has already been unconventional….I haven't even gotten you any jewelry."

"I want you for you, not what you can give me."

"Tonight is our night. If you want it, just say the word."

"Well…I suppose….."

"Great!" He strode over to the counter and asked the clerk to open the case. The man laid it in a golden box and Jason paid for it. Then they left the store, Connie dazzled at the whirlwind turn of events, the beautiful things she possessed, made all the more beautiful because of his love.


	4. Celebration

In the hotel, Jason pulled on his suit, his hair still damp from taking a shower. Connie had tried to hurry him, afraid they'd be late. He wasn't worried; they had plenty of time.

She burst through the bathroom door. "Jason, I can't seem to zip this up. Can you get it?"

She swept around, the dress rustling richly. He was glad he'd gotten it for her. He zipped it up, brushing her back with his fingers as he did so….He longed to kiss the back of her neck but he refrained. He had to focus on the mission at hand.

"Thanks," she said, and turned to look in the mirror. "My hair's a mess! I don't know what to do with it."

"It looks great the way it is."

"I can't go like this. My makeup isn't right, either. I look like a hobo."

He laughed. "You're the most beautiful hobo I've ever seen."

"Cut it out, Jason!" She slapped him on the arm. "I'm going to make a fool out of myself, what's the point of wearing a dress like this, I'm going to look like a hick compared to everybody—"

He took her arm. "Hey. You're gonna blow them all away. You know that? Remember, this is our night. We can pretend no one else is there if we want to."

She looked up at him. "I suppose…I just feel so awkward all of a sudden. And panicky."

He put one hand delicately around her waist. "If you really don't want to go, we don't have to. If it's no fun, there's no point."

"No…I want to go. I can't waste this dress. Maybe I can pretend to be someone else for a while."

"We could pretend to be spies. Like a game."

"I don't mind that type of spying."

"Who knows, they might catch us and think we're real spies. We'll have to be very careful and play our role convincingly." He kissed her on the cheek. She laughed and they held each other for a few moments before she broke away and went back into the bathroom to fiddle with her hair.

He put his shoes on and then went in the bathroom to put on his tie.

"Here, let me do it," she said and reached around his neck, slowly, deliberately tying it with expert fingers. He didn't know how he could survive the night next to such a beautiful creature, not sure if it would ever be quite the same between them as it had been before. They were close again but there was still this unspoken awkwardness, a certain distance between them. He didn't want to trigger whatever he had that one night when she had said she didn't want children, or go back to the time when she had been unresponsive. He had to be careful just in case something might push her away again. Anything but that. For now, her needs were all that mattered. He wanted their relationship to be closer and stronger than it ever had been before, but he didn't know how to make that happen. As long as she was happy, that was enough.

Back in the bed room, she swept back a curl from her forehead. "What do you think?"

"You look perfect."

"Is my hair okay?"

He touched one soft strand of it. "You look—" He was at a loss for words but settled for "amazing."

From the bed, he lifted the necklace out of the box. He swept her hair back and slowly draped the delicate chain around her neck. Would it be too much to kiss her? How would he know what she wanted from him? How much would be too much, and would risk driving her away?

The sapphire lay over her heart, glimmering in the dim light. "I feel like some sort of princess."

"You are."

"I still feel a little weird. I don't want to end up wrecking this dress or losing the necklace or something."

"It'll be all right. Shall we?" He offered his arm.

She grabbed her purse from the bed and they stepped out of their hotel room.

"If I'm a princess, then you're my prince."

"More like your footman or something."

"No, you look like a prince, my beautiful, amazing Jason." She kissed him on the cheek.

He noticed a spring in her step as she walked out the door and was happy that she seemed to have shed her nervousness.

A long black limo pulled up as they stood on the sidewalk. She started for the parking lot but he said, "No, Connie. Here's our ride."

She stopped. Her eyes lit up. "Oh, Jason! So many wonderful surprises…I don't know if I can take it!"

"You're my princess, remember. Or my secret agent. Either way…" He took her hand, and she stepped into the limo, poised and elegant and stunning.

Inside, he handed her a dozen roses and she lifted them up to smell them. "I can't—I mean—" She shook her head, as if at a loss for words. "How much?"

"Don't worry about it. I love you and you deserve the best, always. I can't always give you the best, but tonight—"

"I need to do something for you, too."

"Are you happy?"

A tear slipped from her eye. "Yes!"

"Then I am too. That's all I want."

Her hand crept over to his. He grasped it. She looked up at him, her eyes reflecting the blue of her dress, and she gave him a kiss, then pulled back, leaving him starving for more.

It only took about ten minutes to drive from their hotel to the more expensive one he hadn't been able to get. He might have treated her to it if it hadn't been too short of notice to reserve it; the thing was booked till next June. He helped her out of the limo and they strode arm in arm into the Mayflower Hotel.

* * *

As they walked into the hotel, Connie was hyper-aware of the feel of the dress as its hem dragged along the ground, its glitter at the edge of her vision like the scintillation of diamonds, the slight pressure of the metal backing of the sapphire against her chest, the pinch of the high heels' straps, their click, click on the pavement and then the marble of the floor. Her heart beat hard, thumping in her ears.

 _Breathe_ , she told herself. _Focus. If you keep up like this you might faint and that would be super-embarrassing. Jason's with you. Like he said, this is supposed to be fun._

She looked at him as he walked beside her. His hair was stylishly messy, sticking up in artful directions, its brown glimmering with faint hints of copper, his face just the right amount of unshaven. He exuded a casual intensity, an easy confidence. His dark suit was striking, his tie matching his eyes.

 _I'm the one who's going to have to fight the girls away_ , she thought. _How could you not fall in love with him? Strong, magnificent, gorgeous—my very own secret agent._

Hardly able to help it, she kissed him on the cheek. _I'm going to stick close to him tonight, not because I'm afraid, but because I don't want to ever be apart from this dazzling being._

He returned the kiss on her temple as they walked into the lobby, his arm around her. A few others walked in behind them. The receptionist said, "Are you here for the Centennial Celebration?"

"Yes, we are," said Jason.

"Please follow the sign to your left."

"Thank you."

They followed the "Centennial Celebration" sign. And then they walked through some golden doors into a huge room full of tables, bouquets bursting with brilliant purple, red, and yellow. Balconies gleamed with golden designs that spread to the chandelier glittering on the ceiling. In the front, past screens showing scenes of green fields and lush forests and old-European-looking towns, a band played a lively tune that threaded through the hum of conversation.

People milled throughout the room, some of them seated, some speaking with glasses in their hands. A festive atmosphere thrummed through the air. Maybe she could enjoy this after all. Though she didn't want to stray far from Jason—she didn't want to be without his amazing self. Especially since she had been absent for so long. Guilt shot through her. She'd have to think of some way to repay him for all he'd done, all that he was.

"This is beautiful, Jason. Wow!"

"I've been at some cool parties here before."

"So this isn't so special to you."

"It is, because it's the first time you're here. You make everything a thousand times better."

"Well I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for you, so….. Jason, you look wonderful. Gorgeous. I can't—get enough of looking at you, being with you. Don't you leave my sight."

"I won't. I can't get enough of you, either, my Connie." His look of pure love sent thrills through her. She returned its intensity but then had to look away because she didn't trust herself not to kiss him right there, make a demonstration that everyone would notice. In a moment, she might not even care about the attention.

"Oh, hey, there's someone we both know," he said.

"Who?" She looked around.

"Tasha!"

Shock iced through her. Not just the name, but the excitement in his voice when he said it. He led her over to the side of the room where Tasha was standing alone next to one of the ornate white pillars. She held a half-empty wine glass in her hand and wore an apple-red dress. Her dark hair was arranged artfully, little roses peeking through it, her lips strikingly red against her pale skin. Her noble, elegant face had the perfection of a Greek goddess and the dress showed off her statuesque body in all the right ways. Suddenly Connie felt her dazzle a little dulled—next to Tasha, her dress wasn't as eye-catching as she'd thought. And next to her beauty—

Jealousy shot through her. How had Jason ever chosen her over someone like this?

Tasha's eyes lit up when they met Jason's. Connie's jealousy burst through her heart like a fiery bloom, and then spread down her veins like icy fire.

 _He is mine. I'm not giving him back, even if you might deserve him more…_

"Hi, Tasha," said Jason, with an easy familiarity as if they hadn't been apart for long at all.

"Hello Jason, Connie. How are you both doing? You look fabulous, Connie."

"Th-thank you. So do you."

Tasha smiled.

"We've been seeing the best DC has to offer," said Jason. "Shopping-wise, anyway."

Tasha's eyebrow raised. "You hate shopping."

"It's not so bad if you're doing it in the right company." He reached for Connie's hand and she held it like a precious treasure she never wanted to let go.

"I never had much use for it myself, except if it's prep for a mission. This is just something I pulled out of the closet from a former case. That dress, Connie, if you don't mind me saying so, is stunning on you."

"Thank you. It's nothing like yours."

"This is just showy. Yours is a work of art."

"It's not…too much, you know, for a small-town girl like me?"

"No. You look like you fit here. In fact, you look like you fit together….very well." A shadow crossed her eyes as they flickered down almost imperceptibly.

"We do," said Jason. He put his arm around Connie's shoulder and she grasped his hand. She felt…in sync with him then, like they were two pieces of a puzzle, as if she was meant to be there, and always had been. A thrill flowed through her and she realized all of a sudden how silly it was for her to be jealous of Tasha. How she could never, ever doubt Jason's love. How they belonged together, a perfect match.

"I'm glad," said Tasha. "I want you both to be happy." She took a sip from her glass. "So how have you been since Paraguay?"

"I'm fine," said Jason. "It was…difficult, more emotionally than anything. But I've been able to move on. How about you?"

"Oh, keeping busy. Nothing I can divulge, I'm afraid. Except that—you might be interested to know this—Gray's case is going to trial soon. I'm actually speaking in his defense, since he helped on that mission. I hope you don't mind."

Jason shook his head. "I've forgiven him. I only hope he uses this opportunity to seek the truth."

"It's true that he's changed. In some ways, at least. But I'm not sure how close he is to…seeing things from your point of view."

"What about you?"

"What do you mean? Oh. Jason. I—haven't really had time for such things."

"It's the most important thing there is."

"Well, yes. But it suits certain people more than others… It's good that you two are married and share that common faith, that common bond. That you didn't…wait for me." She cleared her throat. "Oh, my. I'm sorry, I probably shouldn't have said that."

"That's okay, Tasha. I just…want you to be happy, too."

She smiled a little sadly. "Well, you know me. As long as I'm working, I'm good.

"I'm glad you came. Though it's too bad Whit couldn't make it. He's okay, isn't he?"

"Yes. He had something urgent in Chicago to take care of. You wouldn't know what that would be?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

Jason shook his head. "He's been so cryptic about it of course it piques my curiosity."

"Once an agent, always an agent. You sure you don't want to come back?"

"I think that chapter of my life is over, Tasha. I've got a life in Odyssey, and I'm very content there."

"You did good work in Paraguay. You could do some off-the-books stuff like your father. Tamer missions that still require your expertise."

A spark of excitement glittered in his eyes, then a shadow swept over them. "Right now, all I want to do is focus on building our life together." He looked at Connie, and the room faded as she returned his gaze. He was all she needed. But would she always be enough for him—an ex-agent with a penchant for risk, adventure, accomplishing daring feats in secret? Was there a way that she could provide the excitement he needed in his life? Did he truly want to settle down completely or was she holding him back?

"Excuse me," said an amplified voice with an accent. Connie turned to see a man standing on the stage in front of the rich red curtain. "Welcome to the Centennial Celebration of Muldavia's independence. We would like to extend our greetings to all who have responded to our invitation—Senators, Congressmen, diplomats, media, and especially those who have been a friend to us over the years. Without you, we would not be the country we are today, and without some of you, we might not even be a country at all. We extend our deepest gratitude, and we hope that you enjoy the night of our famous hospitality. And without further ado, please, have a seat. Dinner will be served shortly!" He stepped off to the side, where a cluster of people surrounded him.

"Our table's this way, I believe," said Jason and she followed him through the crowd. Someone jostled her a little and she bumped into someone else, making the wine slosh in its glass and nearly spill.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," she said. The man just looked at her disdainfully and stepped away.

A firm tap on her shoulder. She whirled around.

A woman stood there, wearing a golden dress, black hair bound up in glitters of gold. She looked vaguely familiar. "Please give a message to Jason for me."

"What?"

"Just tell him I'd like to meet with him afterwards," she said, and disappeared into the crowd.

Jason rushed up beside her. "Sorry—got a bit chaotic there." He grasped her hand.

"That's okay."

"We were going to stick together and here I already lost you."

"Someone just told me something."

"What?"

"She said she wanted to meet with you afterwards."

"Who was it?"

"It looked like that woman you worked with after the bomb at Whit's End. I only saw her once in the hospital. I think it was—Sierra."


	5. Reminiscence

**warning** (sort of): Spoilers for Quest for Nobility-Jason's first mission with Tasha.

* * *

A chill raced down Jason's skin despite himself. Last time he'd seen Sierra, she'd smashed a pistol into the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. Of course, she was only doing her job—taking Gray back to prison. And Jason had interfered by keeping her from hurting Gray. Before that, they'd worked together to keep Gray and Will from destroying the town in their search for powerful secrets. Sierra had rescued Jason and had tortured Gray with him….interesting memories he had of that expert, flamboyant bounty hunter. A fight at a warehouse. Scars that told a tragic story of pain Jason could never begin to imagine. A farewell letter that said, basically, "I hope there's no hard feelings for bashing you over the head."

Jason didn't hold anything against her. But he couldn't help but feel a little apprehensive at her appearance. What could she want? He didn't want anything to come between him and Connie that could potentially endanger the foundation they were rebuilding. But he also couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement...

He sat down at their table, forcing himself to focus. He could find out about Sierra later.

"You know who that was, don't you?" said the man beside him. Jason looked to see that he was talking to his companion, a young woman with blonde hair and a green dress.

"I'm not sure that I do," she said.

"The famous Muldavian movie star Zef Kane, of course. Just a few minor roles in Hollywood, and one somewhat substantial speaking part. But over there, he's a huge celebrity."

He turned to Jason. "Why, hello! Fancy meeting you here."

For a moment Jason didn't recognize him. Then the image of a face in his mind coalesced with the face before him—he looked older, heavier than he'd last seen him, but he had the same twinkle in his eye, the same hearty manner. "Max! Good to see you." Jason shook hands with him. "It's been a long time."

Max laughed. "Seems like yesterday. And who's this pretty little lady you have here? You always did have the knack for picking up the loveliest dates. Not that I didn't suspect your real motive—making Tasha jealous." He laughed again.

Heat suffused Jason's face. He wasn't the same person that he'd been back then. "Max, this is my wife, Connie."

"Wife? Haha! You mean it? Or is it just a cover? Not that you'd say."

"We're married. Just a few months ago."

"Really. I'd never have thought you the marrying type. But then, none of us agents are."

"It's nice to meet you, Connie. This is my date, Maxine. Haha! No, it's actually Lisanne. She's a secretary at the Agency."

"It's nice to meet you all! Call me Lisa."

"How do you like all of this so far?" said Jason.

"I hardly ever heard of Muldavia before this. It sure knows how to throw a party!"

"We do," said the man across from her. He had curly dark hair and a solemn, earnest face. He looked very familiar…. "In fact, this is nothing compared to the celebrations going on back home right now."

"Maybe I'll head over there next," said Max. "If there's an assignment there I can scrape up."

Then it came to him with a jolt. "Saul Amir?" said Jason.

"Hello, Jason. It's good to see you again."

"Well, you recognized me right away."

"How could I forget? You saved our country. To you, we're just another country you helped."

"No, no, on the contrary, that was my first real mission. It's just—you've grown up since I last saw you."

Saul smiled. "Yes, I suppose I did. This is my wife, Leila."

"Hello," she said. "It's good to meet all of you. Thank you, Jason, for what you did. We wouldn't be where we are today without you."

"My wife and I are with the diplomatic corps. Officially, if you know what I mean."

"You mean, unofficially you're…"

"Let's just say we help keep our country safe. After Von Warberg's fall, I wanted to do something to help my country. To do what you did, behind the scenes. And so I went into the gutted security service as it was being rebuilt from the ground up. It wasn't hard to rise through the ranks back then. It was there that I met Leila. We've been married sixteen years now."

"That long? Wow. Here I'm older than you and I've only been married a few months. Makes me wonder what I've been doing all my life."

"Keeping the world safe, I'd guess." Saul took a sip from his glass.

"Still, I can't believe I spent so long without her."

"I know what you mean." He looked at Leila, and she smiled back at him as if they had their own secret, silent language. Jason wanted that kind of relationship after sixteen years. More, better, stronger, always deeper in love.

"I think that we found each other at just the right time," said Connie. "We were friends, and then it just blossomed into more. The past is all part of how beautiful everything turned out."

"That's a wonderful way to put it," said Leila. She swept back a strand of her dark hair.

"Ah, I remember that honeymoon phase," said Max.

"You mean you were married?" said Jason.

"Yes, _married_ , past tense. Actually it was so long ago sometimes I even forget it happened. One night we decided to elope…probably not the best decision. Actually, I don't see how I could spend my life with just one person. Although—" He looked at Lisa. "Who knows."

A waiter served some hors d'oeuvres on a gilded tiered plate. Another waiter came around with a bottle of dark red wine.

"Ah, this is more like it," said Max.

"One of our biggest exports," said Saul. "Even that is a rather well-kept secret."

"All the more for me, then," said Max, and laughed.

The waiter came to Connie with the bottle.

"No, thank you," she said.

"Are you sure?" said Max. "You don't know what you're missing." He raised his glass and took a sip.

"I don't really drink," she said.

"Suit yourself. Oh, you're not—you two aren't expecting, are you?"

Connie's face paled. Pain shot across her eyes. Jason reached for her hand beneath the table, grasped it, hoping to keep her from shattering again.

"No, we're not," said Jason, saving Connie the pain of having to answer.

"You sure? Those first few months it's hard to know who did what when, when you're so into each other every moment. Of course, my wife was lucky and didn't get pregnant—I say lucky because a kid would've made the divorce much messier."

"Yes, I'm sure," said Jason, wanting to get away from this topic. He knew they couldn't possibly be expecting, because it had been over a month since they had been together in that way.

"You really do look like you belong together, you know. There's something—magical, even seeing you this short amount of time.

"Of course, me and Lisa are pretty magical together ourselves." He took Lisa's hand. She smiled back at him.

"So do you have any kids?" Jason asked Saul and Leila.

"We have five, actually," said Leila. "The oldest is sixteen now. The youngest just turned three. She was our surprise baby. She brings such joy into our lives. It is hard, living the lives we do, but we try to find a balance."

"As important as our work is," said Saul, "they are the most important thing to us. They are the reason we have for protecting our country. It is personal.

"Do you two intend to have children?"

"I—I'm not sure," said Jason, chagrined that the topic had backfired on him. He needed to get on a subject that was less difficult for Connie.

"Well, it's not for everyone. And sometimes it's good to wait until you have a strong foundation of marriage before you think about bringing another person into the world."

"That's what we are thinking," said Jason. _The foundation part, anyway_ , he thought, hoping Connie didn't object to the half-truth. Hoping that, at least someday, she'd reconsider.

A waiter came and gave them plates of salad with chicken, spread with olive oil and garnished with tomatoes.

"Looks good," said Connie, seeming to have recovered. Love for her spread through him and he wanted to protect her with all his heart.

Jason tried the salad himself—it was very good. For salad, anyway. He didn't recall having anything of the sort when he'd visited—of course, it had been a long time ago, and he had been pretty busy. He hardly remembered eating anything during the time he'd been there, though of course he must've.

"What's this about you saving the country?" said Max. "I don't know that I've ever heard that story."

"It was classified. It still might be, who knows."

"Since the wall fell," said Saul, "I'm not sure how much it really matters, and we are among friends."

"I didn't exactly save the country. In fact, it wasn't my most successful mission."

"You sparked a revolution and toppled communism. I'd say that was a success."

"But any good that happened was either by accident or because of someone else. I try not to think of all the ways I blundered. I nearly got myself fired—in fact, when I got back, Donovan practically did fire me. He ended up putting me on probation."

"All that matters is that because of your efforts, our country is a free one."

"It might have become free anyway—communism was on its last gasp as it was. And you were creating a revolution long before I got there."

"But without that spark, it might not have flared into a flame. Von Warberg had an iron grip on the country. Without the King's uniting presence, our country could have fallen into civil war."

"He may have come back on his own."

"That's not what he says."

"You never told me this story, Jason," said Connie.

"I'm sorry. I tend not to talk about my past missions. But now that we're married, we should be able to share such things, as long as they're not classified and can get you in danger."

"You actually knew a king?"

"I haven't personally heard from him in years…"

"You mean he talked to you since?"

"He wanted to thank me for saving him. But I always felt ashamed, guilty. I didn't really do all that much."

"You're too hard on yourself, Jason," said Saul. "It was your first mission. Of course you would make mistakes. And our country didn't exactly make it easy on you. You risked so much, you and Tasha."

"Tasha was there too?" said Connie.

"We were partners from the start."

"You two go pretty far back…." Her entrancing eyes took on a faraway look. He hoped she wasn't jealous of Tasha. How could she be? She had him, heart, body and soul. Tasha was only a shadow of the past. His romantic feelings for her were no more significant than ashes from a fire. But how could he make sure Connie knew that?

"She was an exemplary agent as long as I knew her. I eventually learned a lot from her ….But on that mission, I was pretty clueless." He cringed when he thought of his failures back then. He'd been irresponsibly reckless.

"It couldn't have been that bad."

"I was the one who messed up the mission in the first place. I—" He struggled to remember; after learning his lessons from that mission, he'd tried to put it out of his mind. "We were supposed to be undercover as communist reporters. One day we were covering the speech of the dictator, and I saw a soldier beating a man for holding an umbrella for his wife—it was supposedly disrespectful to the premier or something. So I—intervened."

"You hit the soldier?"

He nodded. "I should've just ignored it—it wasn't like this kind of thing didn't happen all the time there. I wasn't thinking of the big picture, I just wanted to help that man. But you just don't do something like that in a communist country if you don't want to get thrown in jail."

"Is that what happened?" Connie looked horrified.

"A young woman who worked at the paper helped us escape, flee the country. On the way I…fell for her."

Connie's eyes narrowed. "What was her name?"

"Elena."

"I never heard you mention her."

"That's because…she happened to be a double agent. A mole sent by the head of the security service, Zahl." It was all coming back to him now. The fear, the shame, the tang of adventure…. "And then we found the prince hiding out in a cabin on the border with Czechoslovakia. I led the traitor right to him. They captured him, and they captured me, and Elena shot Tasha. So I wouldn't exactly call that a success."

"It wouldn't be if that's how the story ended," said Saul. "If it makes you feel any better, I also…fell for Elena. She had that magnetic quality…and of course she was a good actress."

" _You_ never told me about her," said Leila.

"I forgot all about her as soon as you came along."

Leila smiled. "Good answer."

"She's still out there, isn't she?" said Jason.

Saul nodded. "Like her father, you might say she's a 'slippery character'. But it's been a long time. And Muldavia's not going back to communism anytime soon, so I don't think we have to worry about her."

A waiter came with their food: smoked salmon, rice, asparagus, ribs, vegetables, cheese, bread. It all looked and smelled wonderful—he was hungry.

"Anyway, you eventually escaped, right?" said Saul after the waiter left.

"With Tasha's help. She sacrificed herself so I could get out of that prison…" Memories shot across his mind—Von Warberg beating Tasha with his cane, Zahl humiliating the prince, trying to crush his spirit, the fire in the emaciated prisoners' eyes as they rose in defiance, the sharp sting of the gunshot across Jason's shoulder as he ran….

"In the end," said Saul, "the King made a speech on the scaffold, entreating the people to be free. Just as they were about to hang him, Jason jumped up on the stage and took Zahl hostage—and Elena shot at Jason even while he held her boss in front of him. But just as she did it, the King stepped between her and Jason, taking the bullet."

"James was the true hero," said Jason, emotion welling up inside him from all those years ago.

"He was. But so were you and Tasha. You risked your lives for our country and we'll be forever grateful. Even though you were outsiders, you fought for our freedom and showed us we could take charge and take down the oppressors. Without you, our country wouldn't be what it is today. In fact, none of us would be here, and we wouldn't be enjoying this party right now."

"I always see my success back then as an accident….but even though I made mistakes, seeing the people suffering firsthand made me want to do something. I—I couldn't just stand by and let it happen."

"That passion is what we admire," said Saul. "It may have gotten you in trouble. But you were also willing to sacrifice your life for us. That is nobility on level with the King himself. I know he wouldn't protest that description. I only wish we could have honored you formally."

"You know us spies. We don't expect any kind of honor. It's enough to know that what I did made a difference."

"And that was just your first mission," said Max. "Most of what you did was classified, but you're pretty much a legend around the Agency. Many of your actions looked like mistakes, but then your missions always turn out to be incredible successes. I'd put it down to luck if I didn't know better; you can't be lucky that many times."

"Did you two have a mission together?" said Lisa.

"I saw what Jason can do firsthand, and that the man fits the legend. It was a pleasure to watch him work. Even I, who was an agent long before he was, learned a thing or two from him.

"Of course it wasn't all work. There was that wild party in—well, I can't divulge the location. It was undercover, and so we had our roles to play. I got quite… into my role, I guess you could say. And Tasha—she did her job, though she's not exactly a party girl."

"What about Jason?" said Connie, leaning forward, interest sparkling in her eyes.

"The funny thing about Jason, even though he's got kind of a…cowboy reputation where missions are concerned, he has this code of honor. Even if a mission requires it, there's only so far he'll go. He has this way of treating people with respect, even if they don't deserve it. Even if they're asking for it, if you know what I mean."

"I…don't really know."

"Let's just say that you don't have to wonder about Jason's behavior before you were married. He's always been honorable, even during his career as an agent…something some of us let slip. He may have been James Bond in some ways, but not in others. In case you ever had reason to doubt him."

She shook her head. "It's just nice to hear from someone he worked with."

"It does make sense, actually…he believes in freedom, justice, all of that, and he's never become cynical like some people I know. He was a good agent. And a good man. Those two don't always go together, believe me; I've been around the block." He turned to Jason. "You were such a natural at it I was surprised you gave it up. You were doing real good in the world like you wanted. I'm still somewhat mystified as to why you left."

"That part of my life is over. I've got a life in Odyssey now with the one I love."

"Still, I don't see how someone like you can be content with a quiet life for long."

"I've actually had quite a few adventures lately. Danger isn't always what it's cracked up to be."

Max looked into his eyes searchingly. "The Jason I know wouldn't have said that. What happened?"

"I can't—" Jason wouldn't have said anything even if he could; he didn't want to go digging into wounds that were still not totally healed.

"But of course, you can't discuss it. I know that song and dance all too well. Speaking of song and dance—it looks like people are heading out on the floor. Shall we?" He took Lisa's hand and they wove through the tables. Saul and Leila took their leave and joined them.

Connie wasn't done with her salmon and Jason still had some rice left. "How are you doing?" he asked her.

"Good. This is really good food."

"I've kind of been talking about myself a lot. It's better than…the other subject, though."

"I like hearing the stories of the old days. How everything just confirms what I already know—how amazing you are."

"I'm…not that amazing."

"Yes you are. You put a king on the throne? I'd say that's pretty amazing." She swept a lock of hair back from his forehead.

"I kind of blundered through it; I don't care what they say. That's how I remember it."

"It's not just what you did. It's why you did it. You cared so much you fought for them, risked your life…You've always been the Jason I know and love. I can't believe someone like you chose me. I need to do something for you. To be more…to be worthy of you."

"Connie, I'm the one that's not worthy. Despite the good I may have done, there's darkness I can never make up for. I—I'm not even worthy to touch you."

"I don't see how you can see me that way. I'm nothing special."

"You _are._ In everything you do you show it, your compassion, your grace, your beautiful soul… I long for you every day and yet you're so much more than I can possibly hope for…. I am in awe of the astounding person you are, Connie. Please, don't ever doubt that."

"I just…want you to feel special too. I don't know how to give that to you. Give you something when you've given me—all of this." She swept her arm around to indicate the room, and then back to touch the necklace over her heart.

"Well, maybe we should dance."

She smiled. "I'd like that very much."

He took her hand and they walked alongside the white columns toward the dance floor. Before they reached it, though, a figure stepped out of the shadows.

"Hello, Jason," said Sierra. "It's good to see you again."

Apprehension struck him—he didn't want to be hit on the head again, although he doubted that was her purpose this time.

"Hi, Sierra. This is my wife, Connie."

She looked at Connie. "We've met briefly. She gave you the message?"

"Yes. I wasn't sure what you meant by it."

Sierra smiled. "I've found that cryptic messages pique curiosity. Anyway, I have a proposition for you."

"What is it?"

She took his arm, pulled him into the shadows with her. "My employer needs another freelance operative. You in?"


	6. Recognition

Shock shot across Connie's mind. She stood against the column, her dress draped around the edge of it, trailing into the light. Jason stood beside her, looking at Sierra.

"What kind of job is it?" he said.

"A man employed me to find his son. About a month after he disappeared, the regular law enforcement gave up. I tracked him to a human trafficking network, but then he was swallowed up by it. I pulled out two threads, two possible leads. If I follow one, the other might go cold. And vice versa. I could risk it—or I could bring on a fellow specialist."

"I'm no specialist."

"But with your expertise, you could become one. And you know the country."

"It concerns Muldavia?"

"Part of it, yes. The threads go through many countries; that is one of its hubs.

"I can't pretend that this is just another case, Jason. To know what they're doing to those children—and to be able to do something to stop it—I might even consider going after them full time."

She rubbed one wrist. The golden bangles on her arms fell back and Connie glimpsed scars ringing them….tiny slivers that caught the light. Her stomach turned over as she speculated why this case was personal to Sierra.

"I wish I could help. But I have to consider Connie in all of this."

"Of course. You two discuss it. Take your time—at least, till tomorrow morning." She handed Jason a card. And then she swept away and disappeared into the crowd.

Jason led her to the dance floor where one song was just ending. She glimpsed Saul and Leila swirl past, their eyes only for each other. Connie wanted to always have such a close relationship. She vowed never to deliberately put distance between her and Jason, to slice through their bond again; no matter how much she hurt, she needed to go toward him, not away from him. But would their love always grow stronger? No marriage was perfect—could theirs be? Or would they have fights, setbacks, drawing apart, growing cold…Horror raced through her at the prospect of such things coming between them. She wanted to be in perfect harmony with him now, no distance between them, no residual awkwardness. Pain cut through her that they weren't there yet. Could they ever get back what they'd had? Or would she always have to be careful to make sure she didn't push him away, or use him like she had that night—

He grasped her hand as the song began, and they swept out onto the dance floor, her ballroom dress feeling cumbersome, her heels feeling a bit too tippy. For a moment she thought she'd fall, but his strong hands supported her. They whirled out into an easy rhythm, completely in sync as they danced. She marveled at him—she couldn't believe she'd never danced with him before. He was very good at it.

His blue eyes blazed into hers, the facets in them purer than any sapphire. Glints of copper gleamed in his hair under the lights. His perfect features, so noble and strong –he looked every bit the dashing secret agent. And the suit, how glorious he was in it. She longed to stay like this, dancing with him till the world stopped spinning and they were the only two people left, their hearts as one….

She was hardly aware when the band shifted to a slower song, but Jason slowed his steps and she slid closer to him, her cheek against his, her arm around him.

When the song ended, they came to a stop along the edge. "Jason, I love you."

"I love you, too, Connie. So much I can't—I can't even speak."

She smiled; a tear fell from her eye, though she wasn't sad, just filled to the breaking point. Next to the ivory-white column, she lifted her hand to his cheek and kissed him softly on the lips. Every touch, every movement, every nuance of who he was, made her want more of him. Reluctantly, she pulled back, though breaking contact only made longing explode inside her.

No matter what, she didn't want to be any further from him than this. She kept her hand in his, reveling in the feel of it, in the beauty of his eyes and his smile.

He leaned in once more. "We can continue this later, if you want," he whispered. She couldn't help but kiss him one more time on the cheek, lingering in the smell of his hair….

A throat cleared behind her. She whirled sideways, nearly tripping over her dress, though Jason kept his hand tightly in hers.

Tasha stood there, her lips pursed slightly. "Excuse me for interrupting," she said.

"No, that's okay," said Jason, a little breathless. "We don't want to get too carried away."

Tasha stepped forward, looking at Connie, the sharp, examining gleam in her eyes turning almost possessive as she looked at Jason. Then it disappeared as if it had never been, replaced by a firm professional demeanor.

"I wanted to remind you of the reason for your visit," she said, stepping closer to Jason. "During the reception, you'll meet an important official. Afterwards, he will join you along with us and a few others for a private meeting in the Chinese Room. There, the Muldavians will honor your father for what he did, and we will give you his reward. It will be a short ceremony, since they were expecting Whit to be here."

"It's too bad he couldn't make it. Although I'm glad he gave us this opportunity."

Some martial-sounding music played, and a young man appeared on the stage. There was a collective gasp from the crowd.

"Who's that?" Connie asked.

"That, I believe, is the Muldavian Prince," said Jason. "He certainly looks like his father."

Connie took a step closer to see past the people in front of her. The prince had dark brown hair and an energetic manner, tall, slim, with a noble bearing. Something about him looked familiar….It hit her. "He looks kind of like you."

Jason smiled. "You noticed the resemblance."

The prince delivered a short speech welcoming everyone and telling them how happy he was to join them. Then he invited them to come up and greet him firsthand.

Excitement pounding through her that she'd meet a real prince, she followed Jason up onstage. The prince stood there under the lights, looking even younger than he did from far away, probably about sixteen years old. Several security personnel stood behind him in suits and dark glasses. The prince shook Jason's hand as he said, "My father regrets he could not be here personally to thank you for what you have done for our country. And your father for what he did."

"He's given me all the thanks he needs; I'm sure my father would say the same about himself. It's good to meet you, your Highness."

The prince flashed a brilliant smile. Connie suspected he already had all the girls at home swooning over him. Even the mischievous twinkle in his eyes reminded her of a young Jason.

Jason led her forward. "This is my wife, Connie."

The prince took Connie's hand, kissed it. "Enchanted."

Connie laughed, not sure what to say. "Thank you, your Highness."

"You may both call me James. I will see you again soon."

They walked down the line and greeted ambassadors and others, including the movie star Zef Kane. Afterwards they headed to the Chinese Room where a shiny table stood under a chandelier, the ceiling decorated with intricate designs of blue and gold. The first to arrive, they sat down at the table. For a moment, Connie immersed in the silence of the room, its beauty and grandeur.

A thought came to her. "So, Whit did something for Muldavia too?"

"It runs in the family. I couldn't help but find out when I met the prince—the king now—and saw how he looked a lot like me. His father and my father apparently resembled each other even more."

"There's a story to all this, isn't there?"

"Isn't there always? Now that you're a Whittaker, you're a part of all of it too."

"So, what's the story?"

"Maybe I should let Whit tell you."

"But Jason—if I'm a Whittaker, I have a right to know."

"He'll tell it better, though."

"Can't you, just the gist of it?"

"Wouldn't you rather hear it right the first time?"

"Come on, Jason, tell me." She tickled him—or tried. He just looked at her with an amused expression, not reacting the way he was supposed to.

"That interrogation tactic won't work on me. I immunized myself against it a long time ago."

"What about—this?" She lifted her hand to his face, kissed him on the lips.

"Mm…" he said, pulling back just a little. "I think…this tactic may be working…." He slid his arm around her, kissed her next to her ear. Now _that_ tickled. She laughed, squirmed away—he lifted her onto his lap and kissed the side of her jaw—

A door slammed open. People trailed in, headed by the prince, flanked by Tasha. Heat flooded Connie's face. She slipped back into her own chair, flicking back a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. Jason stood, looking unapologetic. She mirrored him, trying to match his demeanor. They'd been doing nothing wrong…just…personal. It had seemed like a private room but of course the meeting was supposed to happen any moment and they should have considered it…but he'd erased everything else from her mind.

"Your Highness," said Jason, giving a bow. Connie followed suit. The prince gave a slight bow in return and took his place at the head of the table. Tasha sat opposite Jason. Three others joined them. The tall, dark-haired Ambassador from Muldavia introduced himself and his aide, a pretty prim young woman. Tasha introduced the young man at her side, an analyst for the Agency.

The prince gestured for them to be seated. "Thank you for coming in your father's place, Jason. You have both done astonishing things for our country and for my father and grandfather. For that we are eternally grateful. I know that your father refused any kind of reward, but we would like to repay our debt in some way. And so if there is anything the royal family can do for you or your father, you have only to ask."

He gestured toward Jason, who walked toward the prince. "We would like to award you with the highest honor, Protector of the Realm. Since you don't want official recognition, I will simply give you this." He deftly pinned a blue, red and gold ribbon to Jason's jacket. "You will know what it means. And for your father, and for both of you." He handed Jason some objects. Then he bowed. "Thank you for your service."

The prince shook Jason's hand, and they both sat back down. Jason showed Connie a coin-like medal in his palm along with the ribbon for his father.

"Perhaps we should honor you as well, Jason," said Tasha. "But we tend to avoid giving accolades to agents—your father is the exception. As I'm not authorized to give anything beyond what's officially granted, I can only offer my own personal service to the both of you: if you need anything, please don't hesitate to call me. As long as it does not compromise my duties with the Agency." She took something from the analyst and handed it to Jason—a piece of paper and a plain black box. Jason looked at the paper. "What is this?"

"Your father will understand."

"It's in code, isn't it?"

Tasha just smiled.

He tried to open the box, but it was locked. "What's in here?"

"The key's an encryption. Your father will know it. It's something so classified I don't even have clearance for it."

"Oh."

"He is certainly a man of secrets," said the ambassador. "I do not even know what he did for our country. Only the royal family knows."

"For the sake of national security," said the prince solemnly, "I will take the secret to my grave."

 _No wonder Jason was so reluctant to give me the secret_ , thought Connie. _I don't know Whit as much as I think I do….like whatever kind of mission he's on right now._

 _I'm in a family of spies. I might as well get used to secrets_. _Though most of them are in the past, and Jason will probably tell them to me…if I'm persistent enough_.

After a few more minutes, they stepped back out into the hallway. "Would you like to join us for the more…unofficial party after this?" said the prince. "Who knows, it might go all night." He looked less like a prince and more like a teenage boy excited about a party away from his parents.

"Perhaps we will make an appearance," said Jason. "What do you think, Connie?"

"What time is it?"

"Eleven o'clock."

"You didn't look at your watch."

The prince pulled a watch out of his pocket; it chimed a melody. "He's right."

"I've always been able to guess the time," said Jason.

"Hm…" said Connie, suddenly feeling exhausted. "This has been fun…but I'm pretty tired. It's been a long day."

"Well," said the prince, looking disappointed, "you could come tomorrow to the luncheon at the Embassy."

"Maybe we'll do that." Jason took Connie's arm. Slowly, they wound their way through the tables and out through the doors to the marble lobby, then out into the dark warm air of DC. The limo drove up and Jason helped Connie inside. Afterimages of the party floated in front of her eyes. She leaned back on the seat. Her feet ached—she hadn't worn such punishing high heels in a while. She slipped them off and rubbed her feet.

"You okay?" he said.

"Yeah. Just…the price of fashion."

"Let me see." He took her foot gently in his hand. "You've even got blisters! How did you stand it?"

"I didn't really notice till now."

"You don't need such torture devices. Your feet are just as beautiful without them."

"I couldn't go to the party with bare feet. Ow!"

He let go of her foot. "Sorry!"

"No—keep doing that. It feels good. Just—the blisters hurt."

"I'll avoid them." He rubbed her foot, then the other, soothing the places where the straps had pressed. _I probably won't wear those shoes again…._ She leaned back and let him massage them. She could do this for a while. But what about him? He didn't have the torturous shoes she did, but the tie did look uncomfortable.

She slid over to him. Tucked her fingers beneath the tie and tugged it loose. He pulled it off. "That does feel better—I've never been a fan of ties."

"You did look handsome in it. But I like you just as well this way." She unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt so it opened at his throat and ruffled up his hair so pieces of it sprang free of the hair gel and stuck up randomly. In the soft light, his eyes sparkled over infinite depths, a rosy pink at his lips. She sat there in awe of him for a moment, not daring to touch such a perfect being for fear he'd vanish like a dream….

But then he pressed his lips to hers, and she fell headlong into the dream with him.


	7. Distance

**This chapter is mainly romantic stuff so if it's not your thing you can wait for the next chapter. A lot of it is dealing with what's in the past, resolving certain issues, so they can go forward without these things between them.**

* * *

They headed up to their room, Connie carrying her shoes, Jason holding his jacket and tie and the things he'd received at the party. Inside the room, he set them on the dresser. She threw her shoes onto the floor; she didn't even want to look at those horrible things.

"How are your feet doing?" he said.

"Much better. Thank you."

"How is the rest of you?"

"Just tired. But that was fun. I shouldn't have been so nervous about it."

From the dresser, she picked up the medallion that the prince had given Jason. Flipped it over in her palm. It was rather heavy for its size. "Do you think this is real gold?"

"I think so."

She picked up the black box. It was square, nothing on it except a small dial. "I wonder what could be in here."

"Dad will probably tell us once he opens it. Unless it's so secret we can't even know it….But then, the Agency goes a bit overboard in the secrecy department."

She set the box back down on the dresser. Suddenly she was aware of how near he was, as if electricity thrummed between them. She stepped back. After the closeness she'd felt at the party, why did she feel the distance again like a tangible thing, pressing them apart even as longing drew her to him?

Jason hung up his jacket in the closet. He looked great in the white shirt, contrasting against his tanned skin. A memory of their kisses in the limo flashed in front of her. She wanted more of them. She wanted more of him.

But—perhaps that was enough for now. Even though this night had erased most of her fears, she didn't want to go past her comfort zone and revert to how she had been. Something might trigger a reaction that would make her retreat from him. She didn't want to hurt him. She didn't want to wreck the progress they'd made.

It was different at the celebration—she'd been swept up in the dazzle of it all, like a fairytale. But now reality burned vivid, like a too-sharp photograph.

"It _is_ late," he said, unbuttoning his shirt. "We'd better get to bed."

She stood, frozen. Tingles flickered over her skin.

"You look dead tired. Would you like me to help you with your dress?"

She nodded. He stepped behind her, unzipped the back of her dress. His fingers brushed her skin, wildfires erupting at his touch.

"Thanks," she said, not moving otherwise. He stood in front of her again, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt till it hung open, revealing his sculpted chest. She made herself move, walking over to her suitcase and kneeling to get out her pajamas.

She looked back at him. He was sliding the shirt off of his shoulders. Suddenly she wished she were the one to do it.

Leaving the pajamas sprawled half out of the suitcase, she stepped over to him and he met her in the middle of the room. "This day has been wonderful," she said. "But the only thing that matters is that I'm with you. Not even _this_ can compare with that." She touched the smooth surface of the sapphire at her chest. "I want us to go back to how we were before—everything, but I don't know how. I can't imagine how I even wanted any kind of distance between us. Even the distance we still have—it—it hurts, Jason."

He drew her to him, tears tumbling onto her cheeks. She leaned into him, and he wrapped his arms around her, stroking her hair like he had when she was nearly catatonic with grief. How he'd taken care of her! He always would. But how could he trust her after what she'd done?

"Jason—I love you. I'm so sorry."

"Connie, my love. You don't have anything to be sorry about."

"What I did—how I treated you—"

"What happened—it was awful. I wanted to do all I could to help you get through it. But you just had to go through that journey on your own."

"I should've gone toward you, not away from you!"

"We're back together now. That's what matters."

She nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. "It's just that—I'm afraid that I can't control how I react and I—do something else to hurt you. I can't stand doing that. I can't lose you again."

"I don't want to do something that might hurt you, either. Just tell me if I'm doing something wrong, and what I can do that's right. I—don't want to do anything to push you away, even by accident."

"You did everything right. It's me I can't trust." She sat down onto the bed and leaned her forehead in both her hands. The ache of what she'd done cut through her; she didn't know if she could tell him, but she couldn't keep going the way it was.

He sat down beside her, laid a hand on her back.

"The last time we—I mean, the last time we almost—um—" To talk about this kind of thing was hard enough, but to tell him of that... "I was still not recovered. It might have seemed like it, but I was still only thinking about myself, my own feelings. I—needed something to erase the pain and…pleasure was the only thing strong enough, I thought. I wanted you, not for you, but for—the feelings you could give me. Almost like you could've been anyone, except I knew you were the best and—"She shook her head, filled with disgust. "We shouldn't have even gone that far with me thinking like that. I'm so sorry."

He withdrew his hand, looking as if he was in shock. It served her right; how could he think of her in the same way? "That's okay. You weren't exactly yourself."

"You should hate me."

"Connie, I love you. I know you love me. All that's part of the past."

"But it affects _now_. There are other things. It's hard to put them into words, even know what exactly they are."

"Last time I pushed too far; I was just so excited to be close to you again."

"I don't want to be that fragile. From now on, I'll tell you what's too far. Okay? I don't want anything between us. I've got to be strong for you, as you are for me."

"After what happened, every moment with you, with your love, is heaven. I can't get enough—but it's always enough, every movement, every look—how beautiful you are." He touched her chin gently. Kissed her forehead.

She smiled, almost yielded. But then she pulled back a little. "I've been so selfish, I—" Her voice caught. Tears hovered in her eyes again. "It hurt so much, I never thought to ask what you wanted. But—" Pain built up in her heart—she wasn't recovered by a longshot, but she had to push through it—"if you want another baby, we can try. I can be extra careful, get checkups, we can—" She blinked back tears. One escaped, sliding down her cheek. She hoped he didn't take it as a sign to hold back his own thoughts. "We could do this, if you wanted."

He hesitated for a moment, his hands clasped. Then he said, "I do want a baby. But only if that's what you want. We're in this together."

She wiped her tear, needing to be over this brokenness, for him. She searched herself honestly despite the ache in her heart and found the answer, which surprised her. "I do want a baby too…someday."

"Whenever you're ready." A smile practically burst across his face. She wished she'd told him sooner; she wanted to give him all the happiness in the world. After all her wondering what she could do for him, the thing that she had wanted to keep for herself the most was what he needed. And she'd found out she wasn't so wounded she could never consider getting pregnant again. Though she didn't want to think too much about it too much, if something so horrible happened next time, she would try to keep her heart open to him, not closed.

"And we could adopt, too," he said.

"Yes, we could!" She hadn't thought of that. "There are so many kids that need a home."

He nodded. "But first, we have to make sure we have a strong foundation for them to join us."

"We need to get back to how we were. Somehow."

"I think we're well on our way there. What happened—it didn't break us. We have a lot going for us already. We can build on it, and it will get stronger, because our love—it's the kind that lasts." He laid his hand over hers, lingering there for a moment before he stood and grabbed his nightshirt off of the bed.

She swept to her feet, her heart pounding, and grabbed his hand. He looked at her questioningly.

"I think—" she said, her throat tightening, "we should continue what we started in the limo."

"I thought you were tired."

She smiled. "Not anymore." Their conversation had broken through barriers—she wasn't sure how much, but she could feel it. She didn't want to waste any time not as close to him as she could possibly be.

"Oh." He just stood there.

"Are you tired?" she said.

"No." He stepped toward her, dropping the shirt to the floor. Delicately, he laid his hand on her face, catching her eyes before kissing her lips. She savored the gentle pressure of his lips on hers, searching for a rhythm with him like an unfamiliar dance.

He pulled back. Even that much absence was excruciating, as if she were missing an essential part of her soul.

He slid one hand into her hair, tenderly fingering strands of it, then he traced the edge of her cheekbone down to her chin. She kissed down along his jaw, tasting the salt of tears, the stubble rough against her lips. Kissed his chin, then down along his neck to his shoulder. How had she gone so long without him? To be away from such an amazing person—she had not been in her right mind.

She kissed just over his heart, near the bullet scar. A pang shot through her when she thought of how close she'd come to losing him—not just then, but many times. She had to keep him close always; every moment with him was precious.

Her hand met his over the sapphire. "Our love gives this value," she said, "but it's nothing compared to you. You are all I want. This dress" –she fingered its glittery fabric— "is nice to have. But all I need is you." She slid the necklace chain around so the clasp was in the front. He carefully unlatched it, slipped it off, and held it in his hand for a moment, like liquid blue and gold. Then he laid it on the dresser.

She'd have to be careful to not let his touch trigger a negative reaction or make her shut down. It hadn't yet, but she didn't want to risk it, didn't want to automatically pull away and hurt him.

He slid his fingers along the top of the dress; a shiver ran through her at the almost nonexistent brush of his fingertips along her skin. "This is hardly romantic—but we have to deal with it. You're taking birth control, right? Unless—"

"I am. I had a feeling we might—I mean, we _are_ staying in a hotel together."

He looked into her eyes, his like pieces of infinite blue sky. He swept her into a kiss, growing in intensity every moment. By this time she was so immersed in him she hardly noticed when the dress slid to the floor.

She reminisced with him at every touch, even as they wove new patterns of love across each other's skin. Not only rediscovering who he was, but exploring new territory with him, discovering new things that he liked. She wanted to give him everything she could after her long absence.

She blitzed him with kisses then lay down on the bed beside him. He caressed her cheek, tucked back some of her hair. "My beautiful," he whispered.

She slid her hand into his hair; it was soft against her fingers. "My wonderful Jason. You are so—" She couldn't finish the sentence; he transcended everything she could imagine.

Letting all words drown into insignificance, he swept her into a deep, passionate kiss. Love burned through her like a wildfire. All fears and guilt shed from her like shadows of the past, and she merged with him in a love deeper and stronger than ever before.


	8. Revelation

**This is kind of a transition chapter from romance, getting back together, resolving the distance and tension between them, to the adventure of the next part. Although there is some of both in both parts.**

* * *

Jason woke with Connie lying against his arm. His arm had no feeling in it whatsoever and it would burst with pins and needles if he moved it, but he didn't mind. Sunlight danced across her face, painting golden glints in her hair. She was so beautiful he wanted to kiss her but didn't want to disturb her. He wanted to look at every perfect feature as she slept in angelic peace.

Last night, she'd been beautiful in a different way, attacking him in a torrent of love. He'd barely been able to recover before the next onslaught. After being away from her for so long, he didn't know if he could handle it. He'd tried to not do anything that might startle her, not assume to go past a certain point unless she did first. And what she had done! He was still recovering, and a lot of last night was a blur. He wished it wasn't—it had been so wonderful he wanted to remember each part of it—but that meant he could rediscover those things next time.

All he knew was that his memories from a month ago had not done her justice. He knew she was amazing, but to actually experience her love after so long, he hadn't known what to do. He'd wanted to give her everything she deserved, but, absorbed in holding back and out of practice, he had been at a loss under her attentions. He didn't mind—he'd rather be too cautious than not—but he wished he'd been able to keep up a bit. If he'd have known how far their barriers had fallen, he might have tried to give her more. But he'd been dazzled by her glory. Her constant, amazing beauty. She couldn't help but please him in everything she did, but she seemed to instinctively know what he liked.

Next time, if he was sure it was what she wanted, he'd try to pay her back for what she'd given him last night. But he doubted anything he could do would meet her level. As much as he'd needed her, he hadn't even known how much until she'd returned to him full force.

He knew their relationship would not be perfect from now on. He wasn't that naïve. But an essential part of who they were together—what they'd been avoiding—had been repaired last night. He loved being with her no matter what they were doing. But he couldn't deny he'd needed this. It was a large part of how they showed their love to each other. They couldn't just go through married life pretending it didn't matter. They were great together in every way, but this was something special, a wordless language they shared, unique to who they were, each part of each other fitting the other's needs. He never wanted to lose this part of who they were again. Never wanted anything to come between them. He'd do whatever he could to keep that from happening.

A great weight had lifted, allowing him to fully enjoy last night. What she had told him—that they could have a baby— had shot joy through him. He hadn't even realized how much he'd wanted a baby until she told him she wasn't against the idea of getting pregnant anymore.

Now that they had dealt with the reason they'd been broken, he knew that she would not react as she had when she'd been grieving. He could throw himself into his love with abandon, not ask permission at every touch, since it was implicit. Although he'd always be careful with her, make sure he was meeting her needs first. And he would tell her his own concerns from now on. They could move forward, nothing to hinder them. Take their next step, whatever that was.

Or perhaps, he would just lie here all day, marveling at her beauty….

She stirred. Opened her eyes. A smile crossed her face and she snuggled closer to him, her skin warm against his. He moved his numb arm and embraced her. A couple warning tingles pricked it. He ignored them.

"Hey, my beautiful," he said.

"Mmm," was all she said in reply.

He kissed her forehead. She wrapped her arm around his shoulder and kissed him softly on the lips. He caressed her cheek, his fingers lingering in her soft, tangled hair.

Her emerald eyes caught his. "Last night—it was amazing."

"I thought I wasn't keeping up very well."

"Oh, Jason. You were perfect. Taking it slow let me totally enjoy every moment of getting to know you again. I can't get enough of you." She slid her hand down his back, sending thrills through him. He returned the favor by caressing her back, although by now his arm was exploding with pins and needles.

"Flip over," he said.

"Why?"

"I'll show you."

He massaged her shoulders.

"Ouch!" she said. He jerked away.

"Are you okay?"

"No, keep going. I didn't know I had so many knots…."

"Probably the tension of yesterday."

"And this whole month….I can't believe I held myself back from you all this time. I'm never doing that again."

"I have to admit…I like it better this way."

"And—oh, Jason. I'm sorry…if I'd known how much you wanted a baby, I wouldn't have kept that from you either. I…don't know if I'm ready yet but if you really wanted—"

"Not until you want it. I'm just happy that you're open to it sometime in the future." He pressed his fingers into her lower back.

"Mmm…you're really good at this. You should be a professional."

"Probably less dangerous than being a spy."

"Here. Let me return the favor. Though I doubt I'll be as good as you."

He flipped onto his side and she massaged his back. Her small fingers kneaded his muscles expertly, pressing out the knots in his shoulders.

"Tell me where it's sore."

"My left shoulder—there." She massaged it till the knot was gone.

"Where else?"

"Middle of my back." She pressed along it, and it made him feel amazing. Tingles spread through him. Her fingers were wonderful—but suddenly he wanted to see her again so he flipped back over. He slipped a lock of hair back from her face. He wanted more of her, but he didn't know what she was up for. Or if he was totally recovered himself…

"What would you like to do today?" he asked.

She stretched. "Oh, we could just stay here in the hotel all day. That's the funnest thing I can think of. We haven't done this in a while."

"We're not in DC very often, though. Do you want to go somewhere?"

"I'd like to see more of the city…the Capitol…the…Washington Monument…" She kissed him on the lips, along his cheek, burning a path to his ear.

Soon they were wrapped in each other's arms, completely absorbed in each other's love.

* * *

The phone rang on the lampstand. Connie was cuddled next to him. He wasn't sure if she was asleep or not; he didn't want to disturb her. But then he saw the screen: it was his dad.

He reached for the phone and held it to his ear. Connie stirred, looked up at him.

"Who is it?" she said lazily.

 _Dad_ , he mouthed. Her eyes widened.

"Hi Dad," said Jason.

"Hi, Jason." His father's voice was heavy with emotion. Jason tensed.

"What's wrong?"

"I wanted to make sure before I called you. I didn't want to give you any false hope."

Jason's heart flipped. Something momentous had happened—he just didn't know what yet. "About what?" Part of him already had an idea, since his father had gone to Chicago. Though he didn't want to let himself think it.

"Your brother. Jerry."

"Dad—he isn't...?"

"A letter from Jerry arrived to our old house recently, and the post office notified me. It had gotten lost in the mail all these years. It was postmarked a few days after Jerry's death."


	9. Continuance

Jason felt like he'd been struck by lightning. For a moment, he couldn't speak. "What? Are you saying—he could still be alive, that we buried—someone else?"

"That's what I though too. I had to be sure, so I went to Chicago. That's where everything was…handled before they shipped him to Odyssey. I was too much in a fog during that time…and you know that it was a closed-casket funeral. But they assured me that there was no doubt it was him. I'm sorry."

Jason's heart fell. "Oh. So it was just postmarked wrong or something?"

"Not quite. It's more likely the date on the postcard was correct, and the date they gave us for his death was the wrong one. You know how chaotic war can be. Anyway, we have another card from Jerry after what we thought was the last one."

"That's something, anyway. Like a last gift from him, after all these years."

"The most interesting part is what the letter says."

"What does it say?"

"It says that—he got married."

"What?"

"I'll give you the letter to read when you get back. But basically it says that he was captured by the Vietcong, and a young woman helped him escape. They fell in love and got married in secret. They were married only a few days before he died."

"Wow."

"Jerry also said that he wanted to take Ai back to America when he could. He was afraid the enemy would find out about their marriage and hurt her. If he didn't make it out, he wanted me to take care of her."

"So I could have a sister-in-law? In Vietnam?"

"If she survived. And you could have a niece or nephew too, who knows."

"I can hardly take this in."

"Me either. I've been trying to see if I can find her, but it won't be easy. It's likely she didn't want to be found."

"Well, if there's anything I can do to help..."

"Actually I was wondering if you could use some of your connections."

"Yes. Anything. We need to be able to find her. Take care of her like Jerry wanted."

"Meanwhile I'll find some of my contacts and maybe between us we can find her. At least find out what happened to her and if she had a child."

"If she wants to come back to America, we could bring her here."

"That would be wonderful. But I don't want you to get your hopes up too much about this either. It's been such a long time…"

"Some hope is good. It'll keep us searching."

"You're right. It's been an exhausting few days….How are you two doing?"

"Good. The party was amazing and…well, we've been having lots of fun. Reconnecting."

"So you two are—"

"Better than ever."

He looked at Connie. She nodded. Though she had a little furrow in her brow…probably wondering about the conversation. Jason should've put his father on speaker but he'd been so wrapped up in the stunning news.

"So when are you returning?"

"We were going to go back today, but we may stay around if it's okay with Connie. I'll look for some of my old contacts."

"Take as long as you need. I'll do what I can too. I'm not sure where this'll take me….but I'm not stopping until I know for sure."

"I'll go to Vietnam if I have to."

"It may not come to that. As long as we can find the right people in the right places."

"I'll start here. First I'll fill Connie in."

"I'll see you soon."

"Bye, Dad." He hung up, laid the phone on the bed.

Connie touched his arm. "So—your brother was married?"

Jason nodded. "That's what he said in his letter."

"Wow. You could have relatives from Vietnam!"

He told her the rest of what his father had told him. He was really looking forward to reading the letter himself, seeing the last thing his brother had written. Jerry had wanted to keep his wife safe, but it had been in vain, since the letter had gotten lost. Perhaps the fact that it was found meant that there was still hope…

Jason asked Connie if they could stay a few more days to search for contacts and she immediately agreed. He kissed her. Kept on kissing her as she got up to take a shower.

After she stepped in, he went back to sit on the bed, absorb what had happened. He tried to think of contacts but his mind was blank. This was just so incredible. His eye caught something on the nightstand. A business card. Was it from the hotel?

He picked it up, flipped it over.

Oh, he'd forgotten all about this. It said, "Muldavian Embassy, 12:00. Sierra." Come to think of it, that was the lunch the prince had invited him to. He hadn't put two and two together because of how entranced he'd been by Connie all night. It made sense Sierra would be there, though…

But what about this mission she wanted him to do? How could he possibly do it? On the other hand…he didn't want to leave that boy to human traffickers if he could help it.

What about Connie? He couldn't abandon her. He didn't have to feel obligated to Sierra; someone else could do the job, probably better. But he could at least go to the dinner. Sierra probably had contacts in Southeast Asia, and he could see if they could find out about Jerry's wife.

He looked at the clock. 10:00. Enough time to get ready to go.

Connie came out of the bathroom, a blue towel wrapped around her.

He stood, kissed her shoulder. "Hey," he said. "Want to go to a dinner?"

"Oh, I forgot! The one the prince invited us to. Sure!"

"Sierra invited us too." He showed her the card. "We didn't really talk about this yesterday."

"Well, we were a bit…distracted."

"Yeah." He smiled. Slid a strand of damp hair from her forehead. "You were all I could think about at the party, and then—" He kissed her temple. He could hardly resist her now. Maybe they could stay here after all….pretend nothing else existed…. He drew her to him and embraced her. "I don't ever want to leave you. I never want to be further than this."

"Me either," she said a little breathlessly. She looked up at him. "I want to give you everything you deserve."

"I don't deserve _you_."

A pained expression crossed her face. "You've given me so much—now it's my turn."

"This is all I need." He ran his hand down her arm, slid his fingers into hers, and brought their hands up between them.

"I want you to be happy."

"I am." He kissed her cheek, lingering in the scent of her hair.

"What I mean is, I saw how you looked when Sierra told you about the mission. You wanted to do it, didn't you?"

"I don't see how I can leave you, especially after all that's happened. All that we have together."

"I wouldn't want you to go into danger. I couldn't stand the thought of losing you after...the baby." She looked away, pain in her eyes.

"I don't want to leave you alone, either. And I don't really like the thought of being captured or killed. But then there's the boy who was captured….I don't want to leave him to the traffickers if there's something I can do to help. I wouldn't have to go into danger. A freelance operative can set his own limits."

"I could go with you."

"As long as it's not dangerous."

"Well, you're only going if it's not."

"I'll talk to Sierra first. And we'll have to pray and see if it's God's will."

"Whatever you decide, I'm cool with it."

"You sure? Isn't there anything that _you_ want?"

"As long as I'm with you, Jason, that's all that matters. After being apart from you, that's enough."

He wrapped her in an embrace again, kissed her hair. She gave him a joyous smile. It made his heart ache to see her happy again. He wanted to do everything possible to keep her safe and happy. Any mission would never be at her expense. Being married meant that they were in this together. He looked forward to every day with her, getting to know her better, doing things with her and for her, their love always burning between them.

Slowly, she slid away from him. "I better get dressed. Can't go like this."

He laughed. "Yeah. Me either."

While she got dressed, he took a shower, and then they headed out the door to the Muldavian Embassy.


	10. Manipulation

Connie stepped out of the car and up to the embassy door with Jason. Her red-orange dress fluttered with the gentle breeze that assuaged the heat a little. It still wasn't as hot as it would get, but the haze in the distance over the Washington Monument signaled that it would get stifling, perhaps like some of the hottest days in Paraguay.

Her heart pounded in anticipation. She was still a little nervous, but not as much as she'd been last night, since this wasn't so formal. And of course Jason was with her.

She was still in shock from the news that Jerry had a wife in Vietnam. She wasn't quite sure what to think of it…She had a sister-in-law out there somewhere that she'd never met…..maybe even a niece or nephew. She only hoped that they could find her. Excitement hit her at the thought of meeting Ai, Jerry's wife. She hoped she was okay after all these years…how terrible to lose her husband in the war after being married for such a short time.

If Jason took this mission, it might interfere with finding her. But Jason had said that they could do both at once, because a lot could be done remotely. Connie looked forward to helping him as much as she could with both things.

Jason opened the door. Inside, a red carpet lay along the entryway, and huge bouquets of roses greeted them, the sweet, light scent suffusing the air. A man in a dark suit bowed as they entered. "If you would follow me, sir, madam."

Jason took Connie's arm and they followed the man down the hallway, the golden molding along the edges carved into intricate scenes of war and peace.

When the man opened the door onto a room with a high, painted ceiling, decorated with mirrors and roses, another man welcomed them with a bow. He had a red sash across his chest, dark, graying hair, and a gracious smile.

"Thank you, ambassador," said Jason, returning the bow, while Connie curtseyed, almost tripping over her shoes. If they'd been the shoes she'd worn last night, she'd have fallen on her face. As much as she'd imagined such things as a child, she really wasn't used to high society life!

The nervousness that leaped into her throat dissipated as Jason gave her hand a gentle squeeze and they made their way over to the table.

"Welcome!" said the prince at its head as he stood, delight flashing across his face when he saw them. "I'm glad you came!" He tugged down his red, gold-sashed shirt and said in a more formal voice, "Please, if you'd take a seat."

"Thank you, your Highness," said Jason, taking another bow. Connie curtseyed low for him and he smiled, his blue eyes reminding her of Jason. If Jason had had a son….

A twinge of pain hit her heart at this— _Jeremiah_ —and she shut out all thoughts of the baby she'd lost.

The assistant pulled out their chairs and they sat down, Sierra across from them, her chin resting in her hand, a cryptic, unreadable look on her face.

The Muldavian ambassador went to the opposite head of the table. "Welcome, everyone, and thank you for coming. We're happy to share this afternoon with you and get to know you better." He sat down.

Servants appeared as if by magic and served light crisp rolls. Connie wasn't sure how to eat hers.

"Oh, these are very good," said Jason. "You just eat it with your fingers!"

He picked his up and bit into it. She took an experimental bite; it tasted a little salty but good, spinach and generous cheese inside of it.

Sierra gave them a smile. "I'm glad you could make it," she said. "Have you spoken about my proposition?"

"We haven't really had time," said Jason. "I almost forgot about it till this morning, then we talked a little."

"What did you conclude?"

"We still need to pray about it."

"Of course. But you should know that time is short. Even as we speak, the boy could be disappearing so no one can find him. I shouldn't even be here, but I was counting on you to take the other side of the mission."

"Why do you need me specifically?"

"Because I can trust you. Because you're a good agent. Because you are compassionate and you seek justice. And you know Muldavia."

"You've tracked one of the leads to Muldavia?"

"One arm of the human trafficking network reaches to Rakima, the capital. I'm not sure if the base is in the US or Muldavia; it's hard to tell with these things. I'll give you all my data on it before you begin."

"And where does the other lead go?"

Sierra's dark eyes shadowed. "To Cambodia. My old home."

"That makes sense you'd go there."

"I know Muldavia too, but not as well as the streets of Phnom Penh."

Jason looked at Connie, then back at Sierra. "I have something I'd like to ask of you, too. My brother died in Vietnam."

"I'm sorry." Her brow furrowed.

"I just found out he had a wife there, and I want to contact her. Would you—"

"Yes, I can look into that for you. Do you have anything to go on, like her name, her family?"

"Her name's Ai. I don't know her family name… Her last name would be Whittaker."

"Don't be so sure. Times were messy after Saigon fell. She might have taken another name to keep from reprisals from the Vietcong because of marrying an American soldier. Or she might have remarried."

"I didn't think of that."

"I've been in Vietnam on several occasions. I've got contacts there—though some might be…less than happy to see me."

"Don't get into trouble on my account."

"It's no trouble." She laced her fingers and rested her chin on her hands, looking at Jason. Then her eyes strayed to Connie.

"So what do you think about all of this?" said Sierra.

"I'll do what Jason wants, if it's God's will."

"Would you go with him or stay?"

"I'll go with him, as long as it's not dangerous."

"You're not prepared to go into danger with him, then."

"I'd go anywhere with him. But this mission won't be dangerous."

Sierra tipped her head, a coil of blue-streaked black hair working loose and falling beside her cheek. "Who told you that?"

"Jason said that as a freelance agent, he'd get to choose how far his missions go."

"Technically, that's true. But if you're not prepared to go as far as it takes, it's hardly worth doing at all."

"There's a lot of things we can do without putting ourselves into direct danger," said Jason. "I have contacts—"

"Yes, you can be effective, in a way. It's just not how I operate. I'm willing to put myself in just as much danger as the children I'm trying to rescue. I think I owe them that."

"There's no reason to take unnecessary risks."

"Of course not. I tend to be too much of a risk-taker—but you are, too. I've seen it in you. You have that fire inside you, but you've stifled it—" She waved a hand. "I'm sorry." Her voice softened. "I know what abuse can do to a person. I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to settle down for good, and I can't ask you to join my crusade." She sighed, looked at her long purple nails. "I guess I _am_ letting this get personal. Just don't feel pressured into this. If it's not the right thing for you, I'd understand. I want justice—I think you do too, but perhaps this isn't your fight. Perhaps…God will tell you that."

"Maybe." Jason leaned forward. "It's not that I don't want to help. I just need to find out if I should—or if I'm needed somewhere else."

"I understand. I'll need a definite answer by—yesterday. But the end of today will do, I suppose."

Jason nodded.

A man came in and sat down in the empty seat beside Sierra; she turned to speak with him. The servants brought in some salad with olives and cheese and nuts. It was delicious— just the right amount of tangy. She devoured it; she hadn't enjoyed a salad so much for quite a while.

"Jason, Connie," said Sierra, "this is Kris Markov. He's a Deputy Director of Muldavia's internal security."

The man inclined his head slightly. "It's an honor to meet you." He had short dark hair, graying at the temples, and piercing dark eyes that seemed to appraise everything around him. "I hear that you want to know about the darker side of our country."

Jason nodded. "About one aspect in particular."

"Ah yes. We tend to sweep that under the rug, even more than we do our other flaws. We _do_ so want to join the world stage, be an important country." He smiled wryly.

"Don't start that again!" said the woman beside Connie, with dark red hair and elaborate green earrings that matched her dress. "You're too cynical about our country."

"I'm a realist. I know that we're nothing more than a small dot on the map, and it's likely to stay that way."

"Britain's not much more than a dot on the map, and look what it accomplished!"

"Britain is an island. We're a tiny landlocked middle-European country surrounded by much larger and more powerful neighbors. The most we can hope for is to maintain our sovereignty and stay viable economically."

"I believe that we can become great. That we _are_ great."

"Believe that all you want. It won't change reality. I deal with the dark side daily—I know what's out there."

"You only see the bad things. They block your view of our potential."

"I am working to keep the crime from overrunning our country. Even you in the Ministry of Education must see that."

"Come now," said a man beside Kris with brown hair and gray eyes. "I can't believe it's as bad as all that. Our economy is booming, our relations with other countries are strengthening, we're becoming more of an international player—"

Kris chuckled. "If by a 'player' you mean our wine's becoming known outside our own country, then yes, I agree." He leaned forward. "But if you don't see that crime eating away what progress we've made, you're delusional."

The man took a sip of his wine. "You are the one in charge of the security service. You're the one that's supposed to be dealing with it."

"I am dealing with it. We've made headway. But every time we find a solution, our progress is beaten back by blind idealists, incompetent bureaucrats, not to mention our fluid borders. We've become a safe haven for criminals because they know they can find impunity in our country after fleeing from theirs. We don't have the resources to take down the big crime networks, and so they flourish. Time and again I've asked for budget increases, but our economy isn't to the point where it can spare any more for crime-fighting. And so the lawbreakers eat away at our progress, and the cycle continues. Something drastic will have to happen to change this destructive system."

"I want to change things," said the prince in a strong, earnest voice. "I want to help our people, and so does my father. We need ideas and we need people to help us. Anything you can do will be gratefully accepted." He looked around the table, catching Connie's eyes.

Connie felt a sudden desire to help—he looked so concerned for the safety of his country. _But what can I do?_ she wondered.

The Muldavian ambassador leaned over and whispered something to the prince. He looked startled, and then he nodded. He held his head high, his crown glittering in the sun from the window, and suddenly he looked remote and powerful, like the carving of an ancient king.

"Our country has its flaws," said the ambassador. "But I believe our strengths outweigh them. And I believe we do have the potential for greatness. We're small, but we have lots to offer. We want to join our brothers and sisters, especially in America, and work together to create a better world."

"To Muldavia!" said the American ambassador opposite him. He raised his glass.

"To Muldavia!" Everyone echoed, except Connie, who was caught off guard. She raised her glass and clinked it against Sierra's; Sierra's smile widened, distorted by the water.

"I suppose I should consider myself rebuked," said Kris, his voice lowered. "But we must not forget the vulnerable among us, even as we celebrate who we are as a country."

"That's what we're here for," said Sierra.

"You were asking for a favor, if I remember."

"We're interested in helping a boy who was caught by human traffickers, and we traced them to Muldavia. But if we can rescue others, even expose the ring, well…you will benefit too."

"And you can do all that?"

"Perhaps. Our priority is the boy, though. We will pass on any information we discover, but first you have to give us what you have on them."

"Well, there are several human trafficking networks that flow through Muldavia, especially Rakima. Despite what I said, the most vicious and sophisticated one seems to be homegrown, though we've never gotten close to the inner circle. Most operations that prey on our citizens originate in other countries, but not this one. I have suspicions that the illegal drugs and weapons sales organizations actually come from the same source. We're not even sure what its name is; we just call it Yavesh—which means black hole in our language. I'd guess about a third of the violent crime in Rakima at least originates from Yavesh. I'd say not even bother with the others, but you probably want to be thorough."

"It will actually be Jason who will be going to Muldavia, at least at first."

"Oh, really?" said Kris, his dark eyes studying him. "You are quite the hero in our country. Some of what they say sounds more like legend than fact, almost as if you singlehandedly toppled communism. You and the other agent—what was her name?"

"Tasha," said Jason. "She actually did more than me. I wouldn't have gotten far without her."

"Perhaps your version is closer to the truth. Even so, your being a legend could open doors for you. Or close them, depending on where you go. It's true that most of the population doesn't know the covert story of the rise of the King, but after the fall of communism, much of the old guard went underground and started criminal enterprises. I wouldn't be surprised if some of them still know of you."

Jason nodded. "I'd have to be careful."

Something twisted in Connie's heart. "You mean we could run into some of your old enemies?"

Jason grasped Connie's hand under the table and she pressed her fingers to his palm. "I won't take any unnecessary risks."

"That's advisable, with the people you'll be dealing with," said Kris. "Still, some risks are necessary if you want to get close to these people. Even with my best agents, we haven't been able to penetrate more than the outer rings of the organization. They're very thorough and professional—and ruthless. You ask the wrong question, they won't hesitate to kill you."

He sighed, looked down for a moment. Then he caught their eyes with a sharp glance. "Last year I tried to plant someone inside the organization. I sent one of my best agents to infiltrate it and advance toward the center. Everything went well; he was asked to join a human trafficking cell. But first he had to complete an initiation. They wanted him to…beat a young girl. He did—he couldn't back down if he wanted to get further in—but he went easy on her. The next thing I knew, we found his body dumped in an alley, almost unrecognizable from torture, his throat cut."

A shiver ran across Connie's skin. She couldn't help but picture what he described, and wished she could erase it from her mind. Sierra expected them to fight an organization like this? Connie couldn't bear the thought of Jason going into such danger. Her dream from a few weeks ago flashed across her mind—Jason broken in body and mind—it'd been so vivid—No! She couldn't willingly let him do it. She doubted he'd want to go running toward that kind of thing especially after what had happened to him before.

"That's the kind of people you'll have to deal with," continued Kris. "You'll have to be careful—but to get inside, a high amount of risk is unavoidable."

"I'm not sure—" said Jason.

Sierra sent him a sharp look.

"—that I will go in myself. I'd like to find out from informants."

"That's all well and good, if you're willing to sacrifice people like players on a board. I have to do that—but it doesn't make it easy. The loss of that agent last year hit me hard. I'm looking for some new approaches, so if you have any suggestions as to strategy, an outsider could give a fresh perspective." He looked at Connie. "Will you be accompanying Jason?"

"I'm going wherever he goes."

"As a non-agent, I suggest you get some training, or you could be a liability. You two are married, correct?"

Connie nodded.

"Being personally involved can help motivate you, but it can also keep you from going as far as you should, just for the concern of the other's safety. If you find this holds you back, perhaps another arrangement would be more advantageous."

Jason exchanged glances with Connie. They hadn't even really discussed this and this man was assuming they were going as a team to Muldavia. What was Sierra thinking, acting like they were doing it? Did it mean they had to do this—or could they back out?

The dinner came in, interrupting them, and Connie ate some kind of wrap and some cheese and fruit salad, but she barely tasted it. She hoped they were not trapped into this. The image of Jason, hurt and broken like the agent, hovered at the edge of her mind and she tried not to look at it directly. Sierra couldn't ask this of them. They didn't have to do this; they had enough to focus on with finding Jason's sister-in-law.

Of course, they could look into this but that didn't mean they had to go all out and endanger their lives for this mission.

After lunch, they spoke with the prince, who welcomed them to come to his country. He shook Jason's hand and then Connie's.

As they headed toward the door, Sierra handed Jason a card. "You can reach me at this number." Before she could slip away though, Jason grabbed her arm.

"I want to speak with you," he said.

She looked surprised but she said, "Of course."

They walked out to the front of the building beside the stairway. The other guests stepped down it, talking, oblivious to them. The air was now so humid each breath felt heavy.

Jason stood in front of Sierra. Tension made his body taut; it took Connie a moment to realize he was angry.

"What was that about in there?" he said. "After you told us we could give you an answer later, you started acting like it was a done deal."

"I didn't want him to think you weren't serious about this, or he wouldn't have spoken to us."

"It seemed a bit like manipulation to me. Listen, this is my decision. Mine and Connie's. We won't be forced into anything. Least of all something that could result in our deaths."

Sierra crossed her arms, looking unconcerned. "It's true, it won't be easy. But neither is it for the children trapped in it."

"I want to help, but I will do it in my own way. I'll look up contacts, I'll investigate. I won't go into inordinate danger, and I won't leave Connie on her own. I'm not willing to sacrifice what we have together, not after…almost losing it."

Sierra studied him for a moment. "Very well. You may do it your own way. But I will do it mine, and I won't hold back. After I check out the lead in Cambodia, I'll come over to Muldavia and take what you've found out, and burrow into the organization as far as I can. It may be my last mission, but..." She sighed, looked away, pain on her face. "Perhaps this is what I should've done all along." She looked back at Jason. "I can't ask you to come to a decision that's taken me years to come to terms with myself. Perhaps this is really about me, how I'm struggling with taking this on because I haven't let my personal feelings get in the way of business for so long. I have to do this, but at the same time I'll be facing my past directly, and I'm afraid…I won't be able to deal with it. I don't know why I'm telling you this, except that I trust you. I…really would be grateful for any help you could provide. I'll do the rest. I only hope it's not too late for Ben."

"Ben?"

"That's the boy that was kidnapped. I'll tell you more about him when I see you later today. Now I need to get going. Excuse me." She stepped around Jason, not looking at either of them, and strode down the sidewalk, the click of her heels fading amid the noise of the traffic.

Jason leaned against the brick stairway. "Well…that was interesting."

"Yeah. I don't really know what to think…."

"I'm not rushing into danger like I used to. Those days are over. I want to be by your side, and I don't want even the possibility that you could get hurt."

"Me either. I mean, I don't want you to get hurt. What he said, about that agent…." She laid her hand on his arm, his skin warm from the sun. "I don't want to lose you. Especially not…that way. We've had enough violence for a lifetime."

Jason nodded. "We'll be able to accomplish a lot this way too."

"So are we doing this?"

"What do you think?"

"I want to help."

"It is the least we can do."

"We should pray to be sure."

"You're right." Jason grasped Connie's hand and they bowed their heads and prayed fervently about the mission. Then Jason looked at her searchingly. She paused for a moment, thinking.

The boy—Ben—could be getting so lost they'd never find him. They didn't have the luxury of waiting. But they at least had till the end of the day to call Sierra. They shouldn't make a rash decision, although this did come to them out of the blue. Perhaps it did mean God wanted them to do this. Why not help him, if it didn't mean going into danger?

"I think we should do it," she said. "But we might as well wait to the end of the day to be sure."

He smiled. Oh, how she loved his smile. It dispelled all dark thoughts and made her want to embrace him. She held him close, her cheek against his, happy that he'd never have to be much further than this. After a quick kiss, they walked hand in hand down the sidewalk to their car, and drove off to explore DC despite the sweltering heat.


	11. Reflection

**sensitive issue dealt with in this chapter...not much more than mentions it but just a heads up.**

* * *

Jason sat beside the Lincoln Memorial reflecting pool; Connie sat beside him, swishing her hand in the water. A few geese swam nearby, and some kids shrieked and splashed each other. Heat shimmered on the pavement, making the Washington Monument waver as if it were a reflection itself.

The water swirled and glimmered with sunlight, calm compared to the flash and sparkle of the World War Two Memorial fountain they'd just come from. They'd contemplated the quotes on marble, walked through the arches, touched the bronze stars.

It'd hit him again how his father could have easily been one of the dead. How he'd saved all those men, then been hit by some shrapnel and ended up in the hospital. He'd heard that story many times but standing there at the memorial brought it home. One star: 100 dead.

But because of his father's heroic actions, a transport of soldiers made it. Like many others who'd sacrificed during the war so others could live….

That was the kind of person his father was. His brother was.

 _Compared to them, I'm this reckless adventurer who takes risks for their own sake._

 _Well, not anymore. The labyrinth, Gray, Paraguay, has burned all that desire out of me. I still want adventure, just not the dangerous kind._

What Sierra had said was true, though. If it were just himself, he'd have no excuse for not going into danger. Just because he was afraid of capture and torture didn't mean he shouldn't help someone. But how could he put Connie in harm's way? How could he leave her when they just got close again? How could he risk dying and leaving her alone?

Now that they were married, he wasn't just himself anymore. If they decided anything, they had to decide it as a team. He had to put her feelings first. Especially now, when she was still recovering from what had happened.

 _I'll do all I can on my end_ , he thought. _But it doesn't mean I'll rush headlong into danger._

Sierra had offered to infiltrate the organization herself. Perhaps that was the solution; he could gather the information, and when she got back from Vietnam, she could take over and go as far as she wanted to.

Connie splashed water onto herself, smoothing it over her neck. Damp hair straggled from her ponytail; she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He didn't want to stop watching her but at the same time he longed to gather her into his arms…

She looked at him, her eyes reflecting the blue of the water. He drew her gently to him. She leaned against his chest and he smoothed back wisps of her hair. She sighed. "I'm so happy, Jason. I could just sit here all day with you." She twisted back to look up at him and he kissed her forehead.

"There are more places to go, though."

"What do you want to see?"

He thought for a moment. The closest was the Lincoln Memorial but he knew where he really wanted to go. At the same time, he dreaded going there.

He really had no excuse not to, not even the heat. To be so close and not to go there, especially now that he'd found out about Jerry's wife….It was just that all this was bringing up old memories and he was afraid that going there would make the past too real again.

"The Vietnam Memorial isn't far from here," he said.

"Oh! I'd like to go there. It's much bigger than the one in Odyssey."

"Okay. Let's go." He grasped her hand and helped her to her feet. They took a shortcut through the trees.

He stopped near its left edge, his heart pounding hard. Something in him wanted to go back. Moving forward meant plunging into pain. But he couldn't turn his back on Jerry. Jerry had sacrificed his life for others and Jason couldn't let something as trivial as his feelings keep him away.

A shadow had fallen over the sun and he could only see things through a dark, narrow film. He felt as if he were sinking to the ground under an oppressive weight. The air was too heavy to breathe.

A warm hand slid into his. Connie. He took a breath, and stepped forward.

Down into the sunken ground, where the names of the dead were buried. Black stone, gray words blurred, mirroring vague faces.

All these names cut into him but he couldn't look at them. Until one drew him like a magnet and he instinctively stopped.

He'd been here before, long ago. He couldn't bring himself to come back again. But he owed it to his brother to be here now.

He laid his hand on the name. The words pressed into his palm, a physical thing, as if part of Jerry still lived. Tears dripped hot down his cheeks—he couldn't hold them back.

"Jerry, my brother," he whispered and under the weight of the name he fell to his knees, hitting the stones hard. His hand on the warm wall, another name beneath his palm, he leaned over, a silent sob wrenching him, tears falling to the bricks.

He trembled, feeling sick, knowing he was probably making a fool of himself but not caring. Connie's hand lay on his shoulder, a comforting presence. He wiped away tears—though even they were a tribute, a small one—and reached in his shirt pocket. The ribbon of honor from Muldavia.

 _I don't deserve it,_ he thought. _If anyone deserves recognition for heroism, you do._

He laid the ribbon and the cold metal medallion on the stones below his brother's name. Pressed them there, as if they could bind to the pavement permanently, along with his love.

He stood, touched the name. "I will find her," he whispered to him. "I'm sorry we couldn't protect her before. But now I'll protect her with my life."

"So will I," said Connie, her arm linked with his. She laid her hand next to his over the name and stood there together. "I wish I had known you, too." A tear slipped down her cheek. He wrapped his arm around her waist and they stood there together for a moment in silence.

Then, they walked slowly away, Jason's heart still heavy, but a burning desire inside it, a purpose, a vow. He couldn't save his brother, but perhaps he could save the one he'd loved.

After immersing in the grandeur of the Lincoln Memorial, they sat on the steps in its shadow. "I'd like to start looking for her," said Jason.

"Where do you want to start?"

"Well, believe it or not, Tasha had a mission in Vietnam a while ago, after I left the Agency. She also offered her service to me and Dad as part of our unofficial recognition. I know some people in the Thai embassy, and a few other agents who have connections in Vietnam. And of course there's Sierra, who's going to Southeast Asia. I think I'll start with Tasha to make sure to get to her before she goes on another mission. And we'll talk with Sierra when we tell her of our decision."

"Sounds good! I wish I could do more." She laughed. "I don't really have contacts anywhere."

"That doesn't matter. I'm just glad you're here with me. I don't want to let you out of my sight." He kissed her cheek. She lifted her hand to his face, drawing him to her, and they kissed, slowly, passionately, not caring about the tourists that stared at them.

As they walked down the steps, Jason called Tasha. To his surprise, she answered.

"I thought you'd be busy," he said.

"I am. But I saw it was your number."

"Well…you know how you said you would give me and Dad a favor last night?"

"Yes, of course."

"I think we'd both like to collect on that now."

"What would you like me to help with?"

"Dad called yesterday. He told me…he'd found a letter, lost in the mail. From Jerry. It said…he'd had a wife."

A silence. "That's—amazing, Jason."

"She might still be alive. I was wondering if you could dredge up some contacts from your Vietnam mission."

She sighed. "That mission was of debatable success. At best."

"I know. But if it's possible to find any leads from it—"

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you. You aren't too busy?"

"I'll find the time."

"During an Agency mission?"

"I'm not exactly on an Agency mission. Well, it's related. But…." Her voice trailed off; it sounded anxious.

"What is it?"

"I don't know if I should tell you."

"Classified, right."

"No—well, yes, but that's not why. It does concern you in a way…It's Gray."

"Gray?"

"They're cancelling his trial. Because he was a useful asset in Paraguay, they want to keep using him."

"By 'they', you mean the Agency."

"Yes, and the ones who pull their strings. They want to keep him out of the justice system, under the radar, so he can keep working for us as long as he's useful."

"They're denying his trial indefinitely?"

"Yes."

"That doesn't sound legal."

"The Agency's using their significant legal leeway. Gray has no one to advocate for him, no family or friends. When he's no longer useful…they'll probably just discard him.

"I'm sorry. You probably don't want to hear about him."

"No—I want to know. I don't fear him like I used to."

"If you've seen him how I have, no one would fear him. I don't see how anyone can send him on another mission; he'll fall apart. They've seen his file; they know what he can do—at least, before. He's got a coveted skill set. The problem is, he's not the same man that he used to be. What they did to him at the CIA prison….It goes beyond all sense of human decency; the person who orchestrated it should be prosecuted. But of course it's all classified, inadmissible, so she gets off free….I just—it's strange being sympathetic to the one who hurt you. But I'm seeing the lengths that people in our business will go, and I can't turn a blind eye to it anymore."

"What have they done?"

"I can dismiss it by saying that it was a rogue agent, one motivated by revenge rather than professionalism. But the CIA facilitated her actions. And now the Agency is using what she did, holding it over Gray—

"I want to pretend it doesn't exist. But Gray can't escape it. No human being should have to endure what he did."

"What happened to him?" He wasn't sure if he should ask; Gray might not want it disclosed. Jason was sensitive about his own torture; it was supremely personal, humiliating. It was strange, still, feeling sympathy for his enemy…but he knew in a small way—from Gray himself—what it was like to be tortured.

"I might be able to be more detached if I hadn't seen the aftermath. Or if it didn't have to do with—Jason, you remember what I told you happened to me in Iran?"

His stomach turned over. He hadn't been able to protect her. "While I lounged around the hotel, you got captured. I remember."

"I never told you how far it went. I mean—it could've gone further—I'm sorry, I'm not being clear. It's just that these things are hard for me to face directly."

"Tasha, what happened?" He still blamed himself for not being there for her. But he'd still been on probation for his mission to Muldavia and basically been confined to "safe" areas of Iran—not many in 1988.

"They burned me, broke my arm—you know all that. But there was this man there who…took a fancy to me. He…started kissing me. I fought back—he hurt me. And then—" Her voice choked.

"Tasha—you don't have to say any more." Horror swarmed through him as he thought about what she implied had happened.

"It…didn't go as far as it could've, let's just say that. I was barely conscious but I knew someone came in before he could…." She took a deep, shaky breath. "The reason I'm telling you this is because…I know in a small part what it was like for Gray. What they did to him."

"You mean—"

"Rape. I can't hide from that word. We have to say what the thing is, no matter how horrible, so we can deal with it. He's not dealing with it—I don't know how he can—I'm no psychologist. But he won't be able to recover when they're holding it over him."

"What do you mean?" A horrible shiver went through him; he could hardly comprehend what Tasha was saying. He looked at Connie as they walked along the path, as if to anchor himself to something good.

"The Agency told him that if he doesn't cooperate, they'll send him back to the CIA detention center. They know full well what was done to him there. Whether it'll happen to him again or not, he believes it. They're holding it over him, just so he'll do what they want. It makes me sick; this kind of thing isn't want the NSA is supposed to be about. I could go public, but they would probably just shove this under the rug anyway.

"They're not interested in actual justice, just a means to an end. I've tried to warn them that he'll shatter if they keep this up for any amount of time, but they won't listen to me. It's—idiotic. Sometimes I wonder if this is the same Agency I signed up for. Perhaps it's just the idealist in me, but I believed there was a foundation of honor, even in the darkness we sometimes had to immerse in."

"I got out of that life because I didn't want to live in a means-justifies-the-ends world. I saw honor in the Agency, but perhaps that was just because I worked so close to you. What you're telling me—it's beyond what I'd have thought they were capable of. Using a freelance mercenary who's killed someone is one thing. But threatening him with rape—it's unconscionable."

"He's a mess. If you saw him—well, he might put on façade. He does with me, but each time I see him, he's less able to pull himself together. He's getting worse, not better. It might be because of being captured in Paraguay, or what they're holding over him. He won't let anyone touch him, and he gets startled at sudden movements toward him. I don't see how they can't see he's not up to doing any kind of work. At the very least, he needs therapy, perhaps years of it.

"You're sure you're okay with this, with me helping him? I'm not even sure if I'm okay with it."

"I am. I wish I could help, but I'm not sure what I could do. I don't have any idea what he's going through." He'd thought he'd known, but torture and…rape were two different things. The most he'd experienced was being kissed by Marisa (and long ago, Elena)—even that had been unpleasant, a violation—no one should be touched in an intimate way without their consent. Even now, he didn't want to think about it, and to go what Gray had gone through—he didn't even want to imagine. But he did feel this connection with him…now that he'd forgiven him, and they'd gone on a mission together….he felt like he should do something. How could he, though? And would Gray even want to see him?

"Well," said Tasha, "now you know what I'm dealing with. It's not so involving that I can't look into what happened to your brother's wife. This'll be finalized in the next day or so, and then I'll be reassigned. After that—you know the Agency—I can't make any promises. It might be deep cover, who knows. But I'll do the best I can."

"Thank you, Tasha."

"Talk to you soon." She hung up.

They'd reached the base of the Washington Monument by now. Jason felt dazed in the heat, crowds of tourists jabbering. Connie took his arm and led him into the broad shadow. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not sure. You heard most of that?"

She nodded. "What you said. What they're doing—it's horrible. I don't even want to think about it. Whatever he did, he didn't deserve—that." She shuddered, looked away.

"At least he has Tasha. Someone who wants his best interests. It's strange…."

"What?"

"It's just strange. I'd never have thought she'd have sympathy for him—but then, I'd never have thought I'd be able to forgive him. In any case, I wouldn't wish what happened to him on my worst enemy. Which he was." He shook his head. "I suppose we should take our next step."

"What's that?"

"Call Sierra. We'll look into the organization in Muldavia, and she'll find contacts in Vietnam. What do you think?"

Connie nodded. "Let's do it."

"But we won't go into any inordinate danger. Sierra can take up the reins after she's finished in Southeast Asia." He slung his arm around her. "I'm not leaving you. I'm not going any further from you than this if I can help it."

She laughed, wrapped her arms around him, snuggling close to his chest. Happiness swelled through him. He hugged her tight, never wanting to let her go.

On the way back to the car, Jason called Sierra. They got in, and drove to her hotel to meet her.


	12. Appearance

"Come in!" said Sierra. Jason pushed the door; it swung open to reveal Sierra sitting cross-legged on the bed, eating Chinese takeout in front of her laptop.

Connie followed Jason inside. The blinds were drawn, the golden sunlight suffusing the room.

"I got some for you, if you want it," said Sierra, gesturing to the table by the microwave. Two takeout boxes sat there, unopened, chopsticks and plastic forks beside them. The food smelled good; Connie was hungry. She grabbed one of the boxes and followed Jason toward Sierra.

"Have a seat." She gestured to two chairs by the table in front of the window. Connie sat down beside Jason and dug into her box with a fork; she wasn't feeling adventurous enough to try the chopsticks. She swirled the noodles around with a fork and took a bite.

"Mm—good!"

"I always order from Chinese Star when I'm in DC." She scooted forward and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "So, you guys are in?"

Jason nodded, opening his box. "We'll go to Muldavia, look up intel. Then you can take over when you're done in Vietnam."

"Sounds like a plan. Before we go any further, our client would like to talk to you." She stepped off the bed and lifted the laptop, carrying it over to the table. She leaned over, maneuvering the mouse, and brought up a Skype screen.

"Right now?" said Jason.

"It's the best time for him."

Connie had barely managed to slurp up a dangling noodle when a face popped up on the screen.

The man was about forty-five; his dark eyes looked haunted. He wore an immaculate suit, but his perfectly trimmed brown hair was slightly messy, as if he hadn't combed it yet.

"Good evening," he said in a deep, cultured voice.

"Hi," said Sierra. "Mr. Brand, these are the associates I told you about, Jason and Connie Whittaker."

"It's good to meet you," said Jason. "I'm sorry about your son."

"You will help me find him?"

Jason nodded. Connie felt a little awkward, not sure what to do. Sierra had just sprung this meeting on them. Connie hoped Mr. Brand didn't think she was some kind of secret agent. Because that would never happen in a million years. She'd just have to let Jason handle this and fade into the background as much as she could. She certainly wasn't an equal partner in this, really just tagging along as Jason worked his magic.

"We were hoping you could tell them more about what happened to Ben," said Sierra.

"O-of course." He looked down, as if gathering his thoughts. He was sitting at a desk in a room that looked rich and ornate, gold wallpaper in the background, shiny dark wooden furniture—perhaps mahogany (though Connie wasn't totally sure what mahogany looked like...). He looked back up at them, his eyes brimming with sorrow and pain.

"It started with—well, it started long before he was kidnapped. I should've paid attention to what was going on but I was so—busy." He said the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. "Ben's always been such a good boy. I rarely had to discipline him. He always did what he was told—ever since he was little, he was responsible. He had to be, since his mom left us when he was two."

"Oh!" said Connie involuntarily. "I'm sorry."

"I should've seen that coming, too. It was a mixed marriage, and Dezi was a free spirit—that's why I loved her. Marrying her was the only impulsive decision I ever made. But we were too different. She couldn't be 'tied down', as she said. Her love faded like it had never been and I was left with two toddlers to raise, in addition to my business. I…it's been hard, but I thought I was managing it. Now—it looks like I couldn't help but neglect one aspect of my life—and it ended up being the most important part." He took a deep, shaky breath.

"You said it was a mixed marriage," said Jason. "What did you mean by that?"

"Oh. I'm not sure how much Sierra told you."

"Not an awful lot."

Mr. Brand gave a ghost of a smile before it faded. "I'm Jewish. Dezi was…not. I met her on a business trip to L.A. and her religion was a mixture of Buddhism and other new age beliefs—but she took that about as seriously as she did anything. I thought—naively—that I could get her to come around to my point of view. But she never listened to me when I talked about religion. Just a few months after I married her, I felt her gradually floating away….as if I and the children mattered less and less and she felt the pull of the world. 'There's a whole world out there' was one of the last things she said to me. 'You can't expect me to stay in one place for long.' And she left. Becca was too young to remember, but Ben was devastated. He cried for his mommy for days. He even tried to find her once…he got halfway to the nearest subway station before we found him." A pained expression crossed his face at the memory. "After he was old enough for me to tell him why his mother left, he was angry at her and started to pretend she didn't exist. But lately, he started looking for her again."

"Is that—what happened?" Connie ventured to ask.

He looked at her sharply and she felt like sinking down into her chair. She couldn't help but say something—it wasn't in her nature to fade into the background. "It's a bit more complicated than that." He ran his hand through his hair, messing it up further. He looked distracted, as if he was having a hard time keeping his thoughts together. "Though it really is my fault."

Sierra made a small, frustrated noise, shaking her head.

"How could it be your fault?" said Jason.

"I didn't have my priorities straight. I thought I was paying enough attention to my children, but….My business was successful. I couldn't afford to not stay on top of things. I had to go to meetings, go on business trips….keep everything running smoothly. I couldn't let Dad down." He gave a wry, humorless smile. "And of course I had to make sure Ben carried on the business—like he didn't have enough to deal with! I wanted him to follow in my footsteps and he agreed, like the obedient boy he is. I thought he'd keep his other interests as hobbies. I didn't see how much they meant to him till it was too late.

"We had the best year ever for the business, and I thought I could make up the time with the kids after the busy summer season." Bitterness filled his voice.

"I pieced all this together later. Ben often had a bad time in school. I enrolled him in a different school because of the bullying. He's sensitive and was an easy target for them. That he was Jewish didn't help. It seemed to get better in the new school, but now I realize he just didn't want to bother me with it. He endured it until he couldn't take it anymore….He's always been self-sufficient. I should've noticed the changes, but…he stopped getting straight As. I thought he was just adjusting to high school. He stopped doing a lot of the activities that interested him. I thought he was just growing up. He started working out, doing a lot of physical activity, though he never stopped doing what he loved most—writing.

"I thought this was all normal. He still seemed his old self, if a bit more serious. But I later learned this was probably triggered by an event where—" He shook his head, looking a bit sick—"some boys found a note he'd written for a girl he liked. They gave it to her and she stomped on it and the girl's boyfriend and his friends all ganged up on him. He…was beaten so badly they cracked a rib. And he told me that he just fell! I took his word for it even though he had a black eye…." He shook his head as if in disbelief and exasperation at himself.

"Meanwhile, Becca was getting in trouble in school. Acting out. She's a lot like her mother….and I can never be mad at her for too long. I was perhaps a bit too lenient with her…. Ben's grades were going down. He was even getting C's, which never happened. Even I couldn't help but notice that. I talked to him about it, but his grades didn't improve. And then he got into a fight. This time, he won. All his working out had paid off. But the principal didn't see it that way. Neither did I.

"The troublemakers ganged up on him again—and he put them in their place. I told him our annual summer trip was off. I went on a business trip instead. By this time, school was out and I left Ben at home with Becca, telling him to look after her. 'Be responsible for once,' I told him, which wasn't really fair. I told him—" He looked away, a tear flickering in his eye—"I told him that if he didn't get his act together, I could never entrust the business to him.

"'I don't want it anyway!' he said—the first I'd heard of it.

"'Your grandfather would be ashamed of you!' I told him. You have to understand, that Dad's very important to this family. He started the business after surviving the Holocaust as a boy—all the rest of our family was killed. He died a few years ago—he was a great man, and a good one. To disappoint him, well—Ben would never want to do that. He just looked at me and left. Those are the last words I spoke to him." The tears hovering in his eyes spilled onto his cheeks. He looked away, shame and sorrow in his face. "Excuse me," he said, and his face left the screen.

Connie looked at Sierra, who seemed lost in thought, then at Jason, who shrugged. She felt awkward, but that was nothing compared to what that poor man must have been feeling.

He returned, his face dry, looking apologetic. "I'm sorry. I've come to the end of myself. There's nothing I can do anymore—just entrust this to you. Try to keep hoping even though…." He swallowed, shook his head, as if trying to fend off more tears. He folded his hands in a businesslike manner. "Now, where were we?"

"The day you left," said Sierra.

"Ah. Well…I left to Berlin and tried not to feel guilty for what I'd said. I was still angry with him. But once I got to work, it was easy enough to forget….

"At home, Ben watched Becca—who's 13, a year younger than he is. One day she went to a sleepover with some friends and Ben—did something uncharacteristic. He went to a party. Not just any party.

"I suppose I should explain that the last fight at the end of the school year had a different effect at school than it did with me. Ben earned respect that day and the kids didn't bother him anymore. What's more, he earned a place with the 'cool' kids. They weren't the bullies—they were above all that. The group that contacted him, anyway.

"They asked him to a party and he debated whether to say yes. I learned all this from his journal later. He was done trying to be what I wanted him to be. It felt good being respected by other kids for once. Maybe he could become someone better…someone he could be proud of.

"So he left. According to the kids there, he seemed to be enjoying himself at first. But then the party started to get wild. They offered him alcohol. He didn't take it—he just wanted to go home."

"Good for him," said Connie.

Mr. Brand gave her a fleeting smile. "I was proud of him for that. But—" he took a deep, shaky breath—"when he left the party, he never came home." He swallowed, sat back. "The police looked for him, but they lost the trail after a month. That was when I contacted Sierra. A business associate had used her services before, and she'd come through with amazing results despite the apparently hopeless situation. Sierra's found much more than the cops ever did, but she says that she can only be in one place at a time. So she recommends you two."

Connie shifted uncomfortably. She didn't belong here with these professional agents.

"I'm glad we come so highly recommended," said Jason.

"I trust Sierra's judgment. You are former NSA agents, correct?"

"I am."

"I'm just his wife."

"Do you have any experience in this area?"

Connie shook her head. "I'm sorry. I doubt I can do much to help you."

"That's all right. I thought I was getting two agents, that's all." He gave Sierra a pointed look.

"Well, they come as a pair or not at all. Isn't that right, Jason?" Sierra looked at him, a wry smile on her face.

"That's right. I'm not going anywhere without Connie."

"Might that not get a little…inconvenient?" he said, glancing at Sierra.

"Her presence helps me," said Jason. "Without her, I couldn't do my work."

"Can she handle herself if it gets dangerous?" He looked at Connie, who wanted to shrink again.

"If it gets dangerous, we'll get out of there."

"I see. What if my son is in danger? How far are you willing to go to help him?"

"I'll go in alone and get him out."

Mr. Brand nodded, though he didn't look totally convinced. It did sound a little too simple. And when had they agreed to go into danger? But Connie couldn't see how they could tell this man they would only try to help his son if he wasn't in danger. Now that she knew what had happened, she couldn't back out now.

"Very well. I'll pay you what I'm paying Sierra."

"You don't have to pay me," said Jason.

"Nonsense. I'd give everything I have to get my son back. A hundred thousand—that's nothing."

Connie's stomach flipped. A hundred thousand? _Dollars?_ Before she could recover, Jason said, "All right. But we're not doing this for the money."

"Neither am I," said Sierra, passion and determination in her voice.

"It's been so long…he's been gone two months. Anything you can do—" His voice broke as he pleaded.

Connie wished she was next to him so she could give him a hug. "I may not be an agent," she said, "but I'll do everything in my power to help get him back." _Everything?_ A small voice asked. _Really?_ But how could she possibly promise any less after meeting this man, getting to know him and his son?

"Thank you."

"I'll at least do some behind-the-scenes stuff, learn what I can. I'll let Jason do the rest." _Which is what?_ Fear pricked her. She shoved the fear away. But she couldn't help but wonder if this would end up like so many other missions before. She couldn't believe anymore that just because bad things had happened in the past, they were owed a "break". She'd thought that once….but the world didn't really work that way.

That didn't mean something _would_ happen either…and perhaps this mission would be routine for once and they'd get Ben back without too much trouble. She hoped.

"Thank you for agreeing to help find Ben," said Mr. Brand. "I'd almost given up hope when Sierra came along. At first it looked like he ran away. But I couldn't believe it—he's not that irresponsible. Then when we found clues he might've been kidnapped, I thought I'd hear some demands soon. But after almost two months without any demands from kidnappers, I couldn't accept that explanation either. Sierra found out that several other kids had disappeared from the same place the party was at. Some kind of group where kids who want to run away are given false identities."

Sierra leaned forward, clasping her hands over her knee. "That's what it looked like, anyway. Once I did some digging, there were discrepancies. The kids seemed to completely disappear, for one thing. I didn't think a small, altruistic organization would have that many resources. And when I contacted the boy at school responsible for asking potential runaways to these parties, he told me about the man who was responsible for transportation of the kids. This man seemed like a professional to me. I tracked him down. He spilled his secrets—such as they were.

"I tracked the leads he gave me, which led to a cargo ship to Southeast Asia and a plane to Eastern Europe. I knew I couldn't track both leads at once, so I contacted you, Jason. The leads are already going cold. We'll have to act quickly in order to follow them before they disappear completely. I'm planning on leaving first thing tomorrow morning. If possible, you should do the same." She looked at Jason.

"I wasn't expecting to leave so soon."

"You don't have to, but the sooner you leave, the better. You know what's at stake."

Jason nodded. "I'll leave as soon as I can. We'll have to find some airline tickets, for one thing."

"I'll help you with that," said Mr. Brand. "If you need anything, just ask and I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you."

"I feel so helpless here. I'd go with you myself if I thought I could do the job. But I'm no agent." He smiled ruefully. "Just—bring him back, if you can."

"I'll try. If he's in Muldavia, I'll do everything I can to find him."

"That's all I can ask." He leaned to the left, out of the screen, and reached for something. A small framed picture. He turned it around so it faced the screen. "This is the picture of Ben I keep on my desk."

The boy in the picture had a ball in his hand and was laughing. He had curly brown hair and big brown eyes that seemed to look straight into Connie's. A girl danced in the background—Connie figured it was his sister, Becca. She had the same curly brown hair but it was longer, obscuring her face as she twirled. Ben looked so happy in the picture it broke her heart. Now he was in some dark, horrible place she didn't want to think about. How could anyone do something like that to an innocent kid?

"How old is he?" she asked softly.

"Fourt—Fifteen." Mr. Brand withdrew the picture. "He had his birthday in captivity."

"Ohh."

Mr. Brand gave a small smile. "If-when he gets back, we'll give him a party that's better than a hundred birthdays."

He gave them his contact information and then he said goodbye.

"Well," said Sierra. "What do you think?"

"I think you did this on purpose. You wanted us to talk to him so we couldn't back out."

Sierra tipped her head. "You think I manipulated you into this?"

"Yes."

"You didn't have to do anything you didn't want to."

"I think you took advantage of the fact that we're nice people. You knew we couldn't let something like this happen."

"I knew you were a man of integrity. You're a good agent. And yes, you're compassionate. Good qualities for the mission. Forgive me if I thought you were the best person for the job."

A smile spread across Jason's face. "You did a good job of recruiting me. Very clever."

"It's true that this is important to me, for reasons I've told you before. And it's true that I am on a deadline, and your appearance in DC was extremely fortunate. I didn't even have to go tracking you down! It's like you just came to me." She smiled. "But…even if we don't share methods, and we sometimes disagree as to goals as well, I believe we both share a commitment to justice. Mainly, I just thought that this would be something up your alley. I'm sorry if it seemed a bit…underhanded. It's just how I do things."

"That's okay. As you can see, we've agreed to do this." He looked at Connie with a bit of a question in his eyes; she nodded. "You were right."

"Good. We're on the same page then."

"You're going to Cambodia tomorrow?"

Sierra nodded. "I'll look up those contacts for you."

"I'd appreciate that. I'd like to look up some contacts here, but I can do that remotely too. I suppose there's not much keeping me here, except that I'll need to find a flight to Muldavia." He looked at Connie. "Unless you have any objections."

She shook her head. "I don't want to hold you back. I want to help. As much as I can, anyway."

"See if you can get tickets tomorrow, if possible. Some of the Muldavians will be going back—perhaps you can catch a flight with them." Sierra picked up her computer, set it on her lap. "I'll send you all the intel I have about Yavesh. And one of your first steps should be to contact Kris Markov. He knows more about the organization than anybody—which isn't saying a lot." She typed on her computer for a few minutes; Connie finished her cold noodles.

"Well," said Jason, "I suppose we'd better get going." He stood.

"All the better, since I have to get up at three a.m." She gave them a preoccupied wave without looking up and they walked out the door.

"Well," said Jason as they walked down the sidewalk. "It looks like we're headed to Muldavia."

"Yeah. It's just—all this is just such a whirlwind I'm not sure what to think. First the party, and then finding out about Jerry's wife, and now this—it's one thing after another!"

He slid his arm around her shoulder. "Don't forget about…us."

"Yeah. That too." Heat rose to her cheeks. Longing for him hit her—she wanted him even closer than he was now. She wanted to forget everything else except him. She wrapped her arm around his back and hugged him closer.

They arrived at the car and got in. As soon as he withdrew, she felt cold without the warmth of his skin against hers. She didn't want to be separate from him.

He started the car, the muscles in his arm flexing. Just this part of him was marvelous; she could gaze at him all day. Just looking at him should be enough, but the more she had of him, the more of him she wanted. How could she have ever wanted to be separate from someone so magnificent?

She was glad they were going to Muldavia together. It could be like another vacation. A second honeymoon…although they'd have to do some investigation. But that could be fun too. As long as she was with him….This could be a honeymoon, unlike Paraguay, where something didn't go wrong. Perhaps all would go smoothly and they would find Ben and they could relax afterwards….

Even as she thought this, she realized she was thinking optimistically. But thinking that nothing whatsoever would go wrong wasn't realistic. It was as if she was trying to compensate for all the horrible things, a block against it, as if her mind couldn't cope with thinking something bad could happen this time too.

It might not all go perfectly, but it didn't have to end in disaster either. There might be some danger, some roadblocks, but statistically speaking ( _am I starting to think like Eugene?_ she thought), it was unlikely that he'd get kidnapped or tortured or enslaved. It had happened too many times already.

Then again, Jason was an agent and he did seek out the things that others ran from…..Though now he seemed more cautious, including in that meeting. He'd said as much.

"Jason," she said.

"Yeah?" He turned the steering wheel, giving her another view of his wonderful arm, and for a moment she forgot what she was asking.

"Um…I want to find Ben. But I don't want to risk losing you."

"I don't want to be lost, either. There's only so far I'll go. If I see a chance to rescue him, I will….but if Sierra doesn't find him in Cambodia, I'll let her take over the reins here. We'll give her the leads we found and we'll go off and have some fun. Like a second honeymoon."

She smiled at how close their thoughts were. They kind of needed something like that after all that had happened. "I'll make up for everything you did for me."

"It's me who has to make it up to you. For everything you gave me." He smiled and a thrill ran through her.

Jason's phone pinged just as they pulled up to the hotel. Jason picked it up and read it. "It's from Dad. It says…he's sending me a picture of Jerry's letter. That way I can read it for myself." Another ping. "Here it is. Want me to read it to you?"

Connie nodded eagerly, excitement running through her at what it might say.

"Let's get out of this heat first." They climbed out of the car and went up to their pleasantly cool hotel room. Then they sat down on the bed and Jason started to read.


	13. Connection

Tension seized Jason's body as he looked at the picture of the letter. A letter written in Jerry's own hand. He wished he could hold it, but this was the next best thing. The words blurred and for a moment he couldn't read.

Then the blurs coalesced into sentences and he read aloud to Connie, his stomach clenched, his throat tight.

 _Dear Mom and Dad,_

 _and Jana and Jason,_

 _I need to tell you about what happened here in Vietnam. In my other letters, I glossed over details because, Dad, you know war and so I don't have to tell you what it's like, and Mom, I didn't want to worry you. Jana and Jason, I hope you never have to know what war is like._

 _But I can't deny the truth of what happened over here, the pain and the glory of it._

 _You hear stories about Vietnam before you leave, that lot of people give into evil. You have to kill to survive, that's one thing. But the things people let themselves do…become no better than the enemy they're fighting. They let the war cloud their minds, muddy their morals. I was self-righteous about this at first. I would never fall._

 _Oh how wrong I was._

 _I hesitate to tell you. Especially you, Jason, who looked up to me so much. I wish you could keep this heroic image of me, but that would be selfish._

 _The truth is, I gave into evil. I was proud, to start with. It blinded me to the fact that deep down I'm no different than anyone else and it's only by the saving grace of Jesus Christ that I have anything salvageable inside me._

 _It's not like I did it myself; I just let it happen. But that doesn't justify it. Fear is no excuse either. It can't be, here. Especially when you're an officer; you're responsible for the men under you._

 _The other thing I'm hesitant to tell you about is top secret. And it involves someone else and her safety. But with the uncertainty over here—when the war will end, overall or just for me—it's worth the risk so you can help her in case I'm….not around anymore._

 _We trudged through the mud, sheets of rain pouring down, soaking us. The gray sky pierced by green knives of grass, slashing our arms as we searched for the enemy. We hadn't had any action for days and some of my men were itching for a fight, just to break up the gray sloshing mud with bright flowers of fire._

 _This kid, Jenkins, had glasses and that made it so he could see even less than the rest of us in the rain. Barely 18, smaller than most, the guys all teased him but he took it well and so they were good-natured about it. He was kinda like our mascot. We thought he had a charmed life; he once stepped on a mine and it didn't go off, some of the men thought he was lucky and even that we were an invincible unit._

 _We were checking out a weapons cache when some VC ambushed us. Shattered Benny's leg, that's my sarge. Good man. I dragged him to safety and fired back—we were surrounded on this little island in the swamp, just a raised bit of land, not much cover, so we were sitting ducks. I had to get my men out of there. I ordered some men to make a feint to the left, others to cover our rear as we retreated into the swamp. But they caught us as we came down, popped up right out of the gray water and shot some point-blank. I fought hand-to-hand with one—he stabbed me in the thigh and blood swirled into the water like red ink. Somehow we fought them off but by that time they'd killed five of us and Jenkins was lying face down, so much blood in the water around him we knew he was gone._

 _A chopper flew us back to base for R and R and to take care of the dead. Rally, one of my squad leaders, wanted to go right back out and find those VC—he didn't use that term—and kill them. Something in him snapped that day. I should've seen it but we were all grieving. We were a tight-knit unit, even more than most, I thought, and to lose Jenkins and four other good men…it hit us hard. But we forged on. I had to get a new platoon sergeant temporarily so I promoted Rally to the acting position._

 _About a month later, early August, we captured some VC. My men and I secured the village while Rally began the interrogation of the prisoners, two men and a woman, in a vacant shed. While I was occupied, the prisoners attempted to escape and Rally shot them. That was his story. I have no doubt they were trying to escape, but they were shot in the back, which wasn't really necessary as they were bound and couldn't have gotten far. When I returned, one man had died and Rally was beating the other man's face in. He was incoherent and useless as an intel source. Jackson offered to "put him out of his misery"; I held him back and had the medic take care of him._

 _Only the woman was left to interrogate. I let Rally be the bad cop and threaten to kill her family, but I didn't let him lay a hand on her. She taunted us, told us we were dead men like the buddies we'd lost. Rally swung a fist toward her; I shoved him out of the way and had a nice, civil talk with her. She seemed to thaw a little; I saw some of the fear in her eyes beneath the bravado, and we even shared a little about our families. She gave me a nom de guerre: Ana._

 _Just when I thought we were ready for a breakthrough, some of her comrades attacked and we had to fend them off. Once I got back to the shed, I found Rally had continued the interrogation by breaking one of her fingers. I tried to stop him but Jackson held me back. "She's close to cracking," he said. "You step in, she'll clam up again. He's already got some good stuff, sir. Just a little more. Otherwise this is all in vain."_

 _"_ _This is not who we are. We're Americans—this is what_ they _do."_

 _"_ _I know. I know, sir. You've kept us on the good path. But just this once, look away. For the ones we lost. For the ones we can save."_

 _I left the building, patrolled the perimeter. But no matter where I went, I could still hear Ana's screams._

 _When I got back it was like a slaughterhouse. Rally was covered in blood; Ana (I must use her name—to do otherwise would dehumanize her) was unconscious. He'd broken each of her fingers and carved the names of our fallen into her chest. I tried not to look at her directly, as if that would absolve me of guilt, as if she was just a "target" and not a human being._

 _"_ _We got the intel," said Rally, beaming like he'd won a medal of honor._

 _I treated it like just another operation. She was just another casualty of war, an enemy at that. We'd done our job; it was a successful mission. We could be proud of ourselves._

 _We left her there; I'm not sure if she lived or died. I didn't feel guilty at first; I didn't feel anything but the need to keep my men safe. Until we stopped to rest, and she began to haunt me. Even if it was Rally who had gotten out of hand, I was responsible for my men's actions. I'd allowed it. It was the same as if I'd carved those names into her chest. Hadn't I wanted revenge too? How could I possibly delude myself I was any different, any better?_

 _Still, I had to do my job, and I began to gain attention as a good leader from my CO. He told a CIA officer about me, and that officer contacted me for a special mission. Inside enemy territory._

 _We'd really only be glorified couriers; we were to deliver some new equipment to a northern spy. The CIA officer told me that he suspected a mole in his network; every agent he'd sent north had been killed or captured, the expensive equipment confiscated. We had a reputation of getting things done. He commended us for the intel we'd gotten from Ana; his agents had made good use of it. We'd take a different route than the others to throw the VC off track, but we should be under no illusions that this would be an easy or safe mission. He'd only take volunteers._

 _I took a small group of 10 men and we went north. We'd just dropped off the package when we were ambushed. Two men were shot; I covered the others so they could get away. I emptied my ammo and then fought with my knife—I'd rather be killed than captured—but they stabbed my leg and I went down. Blows rained from all directions until a rifle hit my head and I blacked out._

 _I came to in a cell at a VC base camp. My body ached; I could barely move. A man dragged me to the interrogation room and the fun began._

 _My interrogator was the man we'd thought was our agent. He'd been fooling the Americans for years, feeding them false intel, getting their agents captured. I was no different; he'd extract the info he needed then kill me._

 _He asked me about my mission for the CIA. I couldn't tell him any more than he already knew. So he hit me. He asked about troop movements and supply routes; I wouldn't tell him anything. So he hit me again. He wasn't especially creative even though he always bragged about his abilities. I think he confused enjoyment for expertise. Plus he had a big head from fooling the Americans. He was probably a good spy, but not a very good interrogator. I called him Hack._

 _Still, he began to wear me down, especially if the sessions ended with him hitting me so hard I blacked out. I probably had multiple concussions, and my wounds were left untreated and infected. One of his COs sat in on an interrogation and I was apparently so incoherent and delirious he ordered a medic to take care of me._

 _I don't remember much after that; it was probably days before I was fully conscious again. It was like heaven; my head was clear and I barely ached. Someone came in with food._

 _No, not just someone. The most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. Silky hair that fell like a sheet of black water. Intense brown eyes in a perfect oval face. For a moment I thought she was an angel, especially since I felt no pain and pain had become part of my existence. She also reminded me of Ana…guilt struck my heart._

 _She handed me the tray of food and then left. When she came back, she aimed her gun at me and told me to follow. I was back in the interrogation room, but this time Hack was gone, replaced by another man. He spoke no English so he needed the girl, Ai, to translate. I knew basic Vietnamese but no complex words or sentences._

 _His interrogation was perfunctory and he rarely used physical force. It was a welcome reprieve. Plus I got to be in the same room with Ai, who looked at me with disdain as she translated._

 _This guy didn't get anything out of me either, so they got some sort of specialist to have a go at me. He was good. Big, brutal, but he knew how to inflict maximum pain with minimum damage. Ai translated for him as well._

 _One day he had me on the floor, just screaming and sobbing with pain, like I was on fire. Ai threatened to stop translating unless he stopped hurting me so badly; he grabbed her and asked what side she was on. She said she just couldn't stomach this; he said if she was weak she didn't belong in the VC and began choking her._

 _First I noticed the absence of pain, then I noticed frantic, strangled cries. I looked up to see Ai kicking at him as he held her in the air by her throat._

 _I asked God to help me because I knew I couldn't move on my own. I couldn't redeem myself for what I'd done to Ana but I could help Ai._

 _I struggled to my feet and stood, shaking. Somehow I managed to say, "Stop!"_

 _Anger crossed his face. He dropped Ai to the floor and turned on me. Gave me a good old fashioned beating till I blacked out._

 _When I came to, Ai was shaking me. It was dark. She told me that they would kill me since I had outlived my usefulness. She led me down the hallway and opened the door to the back, where there was a running vehicle. "Thank you. For what you did for me," she said._

 _"_ _Thank you for helping me, Ai. I wish—"_

 _"_ _Go! I can't let them catch me." She darted back inside._

 _Somehow I got down the road a bit before anyone saw me. I had to ditch the vehicle and run into the jungle. Survived for days, dodging patrols, eating bugs, till I ran into an American squad and they had me choppered back to base._

 _Everyone had thought I was dead; they had a big party for me. I recuperated and then went back to leading my platoon. Everything went back to normal. Vietnam-normal, anyway._

 _Until one day I saw Ai on base, delivering supplies to the soldiers. She drove out before I could catch her._

 _My men and I were hanging around base for a little while, so I saw her when she returned later that week. I caught up to her this time. She took me aside and told me that she was supposed to be an agent for the VC, but she was really working for the Americans. She had been with the communists when I'd been captured but she wasn't a die-hard party member or anything. All she wanted was for the war to end and for her country to be at peace. She thought the VC would do that. But I'd changed her view of what Americans were at the same time she'd seen the brutality of the VC. She didn't want to be complicit in that so she agreed to help us, in part to bring democracy and peace to her country, in part to make up for what she did._

 _I then told her my own struggle—my own complicity. Hurting a young woman like her. I expected her to leave in disgust. But she forgave me. I felt a dark burden lift from my heart. It wasn't totally gone—it never will be. But what she did freed me, more so than when she'd let me out of the enemy camp._

 _Whenever she was on base, I found time to be with her. We began hanging out together. Eating at mess together. The boys began to make fun of me. I knew I should be careful; I didn't want to blow her cover. Spending too much time with any one American without intel from him would be suspicious to her handlers. So we did things in secret. Had picnics out on this grassy hill with beautiful red flowers. I gave her presents. I felt she deserved the world._

 _Then I got orders to move out. We'd be deep in the jungle for weeks, perhaps months. My heart felt like it was imploding. I couldn't be without her. I wished I could just take her and run away from the war and just live with her in peace._

 _But I decided to do something a little less drastic. When we were out on a picnic, I asked her—Dad, Mom, can you believe this?—to marry me._

 _And even more wonderful and crazy—she said yes!_

 _Two days ago, we were married on our hill under the moonlight. She had a red flower in her hair. She was so beautiful! We sealed it with a glorious kiss and then…well, I'll leave it at that._

 _We had two frantic days together, stolen kisses in the hallway, nights in a little abandoned hut covered in vines. Today I have to move out, leave her to the lonely life of a spy. How I can leave her without my heart breaking I don't know. I'm sending this letter so you know the worst and the best of me, and so that you know to take care of her in case I don't come back. Only the chaplain and the witness know about our marriage._

 _She's leaning over my shoulder as I write this in our little 'cabin', as I call it. Kissing me. Now she's saying that she wants to say hi to you and she can't wait to meet you. That she won't let me leave and if I do she'll drag me back….Oh I do love her, I can't tell you how much, my heart's bursting and I—_

 _I miss you. I've got a long tour left but when I come home, I'll bring a beautiful bride with me._

 _And, just in case,_

 _Goodbye. (I'll see you in heaven, anyway!)_

 _Love,_

 _Jerry (and Ai) Whittaker_

Ai wrote her own signature beside Jerry's in both English and Vietnamese.

Jason sat back in the chair, exhausted, emotionally drained. Such a letter! He couldn't process it.

The last thing his brother had written. The living words on the page, almost as if he were alive…

Tears sprang to his eyes, slid down his cheeks. Connie wrapped her arm around him and he nestled his face against her shoulder and cried. Letting loose all the emotions he'd kept inside all these years, stuffed down just to move on, But he'd never gotten over his brother's death, just…ignored the pain and forged ahead. What else could you do? Now it felt like all those years had never been and the pain was fresh and real as if he were a boy just hearing about his brother's death….

But now…Ai. She might still be alive. A connection with his brother. Hope and excitement leapt in his heart. Even more than ever, he had to do something to find her.

He sat back, still holding Connie's hand, the phone in his other hand as if setting it down would sever the link between him and his brother. "She knew Jerry sent this letter," he said. "She might have thought we didn't care about her since we didn't try to find her after the war."

"Maybe she thought something happened to the letter—like it did."

"She didn't try to contact us though. Maybe she thought we abandoned her. Or maybe—" He couldn't stand the thought that she could be gone too. How horrible to get this letter after all these years, too late to do anything about it. What was the point? Why would God let this happen for no reason?

"Maybe she couldn't contact you. She _was_ a spy."

Jason nodded. That was it. She probably thought it was too risky to send a letter as a spy. Maybe even after the war. Especially after the war, because it had become a completely communist country. "I wonder how long she was a spy. If she tried to get to America or if she didn't think it was worth the risk. Maybe she doesn't even want to hear from us."

"That's not what she said in the letter."

"Yeah…but that was before Jerry's death. Maybe she wanted to move on. Forget it happened. She probably has a family of her own now, maybe even remarried."

"I think she'd still like to find out about Jerry's family. It sounded like…they were very much in love."

"They have something in common with us, then." He squeezed her hand. "Before this letter, I had no idea… I just thought he was over there fighting for truth, justice, and the American way. Even after his death, I didn't really think about what it was like for him. When I heard stories about Vietnam, it didn't connect with this heroic image I had of him, like he was a figure from some ancient drama. He was always larger than life. Now I see that he was just a man like me—younger than me—thrown into a horrible war. I'll never really know what it was like, but now I have a more realistic idea than my childhood image of it. That he gave into darkness doesn't make me think less of him. I can't judge him, since I've never been in war myself, never been faced with such impossible situations. I looked up to him so much that no one could've lived up to such an image. In a strange way, I feel closer to him because he worked for the CIA."

"Spying must run in the family."

Jason nodded. "I hope the communists didn't catch Ai…. Maybe we can find the chaplain and the witness, whoever they were."

"That's a start."

"I'll make some calls before it gets too late."

Jason called some contacts, but hit dead ends. Then he looked at the info Sierra sent over about Yavesh and sent her the possible leads. Finally he called Kris Markov, who told him that he'd brief them tomorrow on the way to Muldavia on his private plane. Wearily he set down the phone and got ready for bed.

He ran his hand over Connie's cheek, reveling in her beauty in the dark. At least Jerry had known love before his life had been cut short. But Ai had had to live afterwards…torn from the one she loved. Jason couldn't imagine losing Connie. To live without her the rest of his life, a huge piece of his heart ripped out… he hoped he never had to go through that. His heart went out to Ai, wherever she was.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, the phone rang.

It was Tasha.


	14. Chance

"What is it?" said Connie sleepily.

"Nothing, go back to sleep."

"Mm…" said Connie, snuggling closer to him.

Jason was tempted not to answer. Why was she calling in the middle of the night? But he pressed the green answer button.

"Hello, Tasha," he whispered.

"Hi, Jason."

"We're sleeping, you know."

"I'm sorry. But I just want to give you a heads up. When you go to Muldavia tomorrow—"

"How did you know—wait, don't answer that. I don't want to know."

"When you fly out, we'll be going with you."

"What do you mean?" He sat up. Connie reached for him and he wrapped his hand around hers. She smiled and curled up under the covers.

"It's last-minute, I know. But the Agency wanted me to go with you."

"Why?"

"I'm gonna be up front with you, Jason. No secrets except need-to-know. They want me because I know you. They want me to work with you as long as the relationship is…beneficial."

"Use me, you mean." Jason carefully slid his hand out of Connie's and walked into the entryway.

"At its most basic, I suppose."

"So the NSA is interested in human trafficking now?"

"Not so much, no. They're more interested in the arms trafficking side of things. Yavesh has come up on their radar; separate leads converged to reveal a common source. They want to know more about this organization that's thwarted them and has been clever enough, till now, to seem like small-time, disparate groups and random incidents. You've got an admittedly tenuous lead; they want to follow your investigation. And then I'll diverge once I get enough info to go deeper into the weapons trafficking angle. I'm sorry if this makes things…difficult for you."

"No, it's fine. I understand, you've got to follow orders. With our past, things could get…awkward, but I think we're able to keep things professional."

"Yes. There's another thing. Another reason the Agency wants me to go. Gray is coming with me."

"I thought he wasn't in any condition to go on a mission."

She scoffed. "He's not. But I don't have any influence with the higher-ups. I actually flirted with the idea of leaving the Agency. This business, this dirty underside I've had to see firsthand, makes me sick. The greater goal—if they even know what it is anymore—has been thrown off-track by their games, their detachment, their lack of empathy. The ends don't always justify the means. But besides the fact that being an agent is in my blood and I can't just turn my back on it, I have to be Gray's handler. If someone else was in charge of him, they wouldn't care how fragile he is and could push him too far. I still don't see how he can hold up long enough for a mission, but at least with me he has a chance."

"Why do they want him so much?"

"They see him as a great asset. How much he helped with Paraguay. And how much success he had before his capture. He's got experience with groups like Yavesh. They didn't see how he almost fell apart in Paraguay, or how he's not the same man he was. It's a good thing he's not the same man, but he's in no shape to be an agent. If he fails, they'll send him back to the CIA. You know what happened to him there."

Jason's stomach flipped sickeningly. "I know."

"He wants to do this. Especially since it's his only good option. I just don't see how he'll be up to it. I'll support him as much as I can, but I'm not sure that it'll be enough."

"I can help," Jason found himself saying. "I can try, anyway."

"Even after what he did to you."

"He's in pain; I have some experience with that. I'm not really sure what I can do to help, though."

"Just be there for him. He expects to be hurt. He still expects me to hurt him, to…want revenge for what he did to you. And he's got this…well, not irrational fear, after…but he is afraid of other men."

"Maybe my talking to him isn't such a good idea."

"In Paraguay, you forgave him, kept him from being recaptured. He knows you have good intentions—though he's probably as mystified about them as about mine." She laughed softly. "It's so strange to have this sort of rapport with him, to be his only advocate. I'm…not entirely comfortable with this…relationship. But I'm just going to have to deal with it so this mission will have as few road bumps as possible."

"We all will. This should be…interesting."

"Yeah. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it."

"I'll see you tomorrow, Tasha."

"Goodbye, Jason."

Jason set the phone down and sat there for a minute in the dark, absorbing what she'd said. He was so tired he knew the full import of Tasha and Gray joining this mission hadn't sunk in. As if things weren't interesting enough.

Excitement and a bit of dread knotted up in his chest, he crawled back into bed and wrapped his arm around Connie's. He kissed her temple and then lay down.

It took longer than he would've liked to get to sleep, but eventually he drifted off into dreams.

In the morning, they packed while he told Connie about his conversation with Tasha. "She's coming with?" she said.

"Not only her. Gray's coming too."

"Wow." She dropped a shirt into her suitcase. Looked away toward the opposite wall.

"Are you okay with this?"

"I have to be okay with it."

He walked over to her from beside the bed. "No, you don't. We wouldn't have to go if you don't want to."

She gave him a smile. "It's just a lot to take in, that's all. I know Gray's not the same person he was…that…he deserves our sympathy. But I haven't seen him since he kidnapped me. I mean, I saw him a little in Paraguay but not close up like you did. I don't think I've…been able to get the closure that you have."

"Maybe now you can."

"Maybe. So much else has happened and ….I thought I was over it but when you said he was coming….I sort of felt a panic. I'll have to face him, look him in the eye…the one who hurt you. He is the same person, even if he's changed, and I…I'm not really sure if I've forgiven him. I just thought I did because you did…but it's not really the same thing. I don't even know what to forgive him for, because he didn't really do anything to me."

"He kidnapped you. Broke your leg. Set the bomb that put you in the hospital." Anger stirred in him when he remembered what Gray had done to the one he loved.

"I don't really count that. It's what he did to you that matters. But he did it to you and not to me and so….it's like I don't have to forgive him but the anger's still there, deep inside…" A tear spilled onto her cheek.

Jason laid his hand on her arm. "I know. I know how hard it is. The first step is acknowledging you do feel anger and hatred, and then asking God to forgive you for it and to help you forgive. Even though Gray didn't hurt you like he did me—it still had to affect you. I didn't realize that. This'll be a bit challenging for the both of us. Even though I've forgiven him and want to help him, the memories are still there and—it still hurts." Tears sprang to his eyes at this realization. He would never completely heal, just as he'd always bear the external scars…. He'd just have to make the best of it. Use his pain to give empathy to Gray and others.

"Oh, Jason. I know." She turned to him, kissed his cheek. "I wish I could make it stop. Part of me thinks that hurting him will help—but it won't make you better, it will only create more pain, for him and for me. Forgiveness is the only way to go, I know that. Will you pray with me?"

Jason nodded. They knelt beside the bed, Jason's hand in hers, and she asked God to help her forgive Gray. Jason asked God to give her strength, and to help him to find ways to help Gray. They prayed about the mission too, that they'd find Ben soon, and to encourage his father. And for them to be able to find Jerry's wife, and to keep her safe.

"I feel much better about this now," said Connie. "It _will_ be a little weird with Tasha there…."

"You don't have to worry about Tasha." Jason swept her into a kiss. She laughed and kissed him back passionately. But reluctantly he broke away. They'd be late if they didn't watch it.

They packed and drove to the airport. Leaving their rental car behind, they went through the terminal and boarded a sleek, compact private plane, blue and marked with "Bonne Chance".

Inside, Kris Markov met them. "Welcome aboard," he said. "I'm glad you could come. The more diverse perspectives we have the better. You're a legend among those of us who have a window into Muldavia's secret past. One might even say hero." He smiled.

"I don't really deserve that…I learned much more about intelligence since then."

"I welcome your present self then, although your status as hero of Muldavia could also be of use. Please, take a seat anywhere you like. We'll serve lunch at midday."

Excitement gripped him as he walked down the aisle—he was actually going back to Muldavia after all these years. It would be fun to visit now that James was in charge and it wasn't communist with secret police at every corner.

After passing several people absorbed in their laptops, Saul and Leila greeted them.

"I didn't know you were coming!" said Jason.

"All of us security people are going back on one plane," said Saul, "and the prince and his entourage on another. This gives us a chance to compare notes on Yavesh. We're really overdue for taking a serious look at its threat to our national security."

"It'll be good to work with you again. And get to know you, Leila."

"Likewise," she said, smiling at him and then Connie. Jason was glad she wasn't ignoring Connie; he hoped she didn't feel left out on this plane full of spies.

At the back of the plane Jason spotted Tasha and Gray. His heart flipped as he walked toward them.

"Hi Tasha, Gray."

"Hello, Jason," said Tasha.

Gray looked at him, his blue eyes almost transparent in the light from the plane window, apprehension cutting through the cautious eagerness in his face.

"Mind if I sit down?"

"Go ahead," said Tasha.

Jason sat across from Gray so it wouldn't force Connie to confront her feelings about Gray until she was ready.

Jason however had to figure out what to say to Gray that wouldn't hurt him. He couldn't exactly ask "How have you been".

"It's good to see you again."

Gray's eyebrows furrowed as if he didn't quite believe Jason. But he said in a quiet voice, "It's good to see you too, Jason."

"I'm looking forward to working with you."

"You were…very professional last time we worked together. I'm sorry I couldn't have been of more help to you."

"Are you kidding? You provided the intel Tasha needed to go after Ramon."

"I drugged you. You were shot—I left you."

"The former was part of your cover. The latter was my choice, and there was no use in the both of us getting caught. In the end, I escaped. No harm done."

Gray looked out the window a moment. Then back at Jason, a tentative expression on his face. "I barely survived Paraguay, you know. It's gotten worse, not better, since then. I'm…not sure how much of an asset I will be to this." His eyes dropped, a blush suffusing his usually pale cheeks.

This admission of weakness was a far cry from the Gray he had known. "You are a great agent. You have accomplished much."

"That was before. I was not even the great agent I thought I was then. If I were, I could not have become…this." He grasped his wrist, his nails digging into his skin. Beneath his long-sleeved shirt a white bandage showed.

"You still have that person inside of you. You can become him again."

"That's the person that hurt you." His eyes bored into Jason's, pain and challenge in them.

"You don't have to be the same man. You can be better. You can use your talents for good."

"For good. Ha! I can't even—" He stopped, as if choked.

"That's what you're doing now, believe it or not. By going on this mission. This can be a fresh start."

Gray tipped his head sideways, his eyes narrowed as if considering what he'd said. Then he said bitterly, "What makes you think I care about doing good? I'm doing this to try to get back some semblance of the life I had. And because…" He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the seat wearily, and said so softly Jason could barely hear above the noise of the engines, "I don't have a choice."

"What do you mean?" said Jason.

"If…if I don't do this, they'll send me back. I can't go back." He shuddered, turned toward the window, his whole body tense. He grasped his wrist, fingers digging into it. He didn't look back at Jason and Jason thought he'd give him some space. But the plane was about to take off and he had to stay in his seat. He looked at Connie, who smiled and slid her hand into his.

"Tasha's been telling me about your mission to Muldavia," she said. "It's amazing to hear about it firsthand."

"She's probably glossing over my mistakes."

"Cut it out, Jason!"

"I mean it. I'm a bit embarrassed to be singled out as a hero, when any success I had was due to Tasha."

Tasha smiled. "You were quite green, it's true, but you also showed raw potential—and you later blossomed into one of the best agents the NSA has ever had."

"I could say the same for you. This mission has a much greater chance of success with you on the case."

A smile spread across her face. "Thank you, Jason. I will do my best….and it's a good thing I have experience with this country, although I think we'll find much has changed when we arrive."

"For the better."

Tasha nodded and pulled out her laptop.

"Is he all right?" said Connie, looking at Gray. The plane was taxiing down the runway.

"I…don't know."

"His arm, Jason-"

Sure enough, red had seeped through his bandage to stain his sleeve. "Gray—"

"What?"

"You're bleeding."

Shock seized his face; he lifted his hand away from his arm to look at the blood spreading through his blue shirt. "I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about. Here, let me help you—" Jason reached toward his arm. Gray jerked away, fear flashing across his eyes. He grabbed his seatbelt as if to unbuckle it. Jason moved toward him to stop him. Gray tried to writhe away from him. Jason sat back, not knowing what to do.

Tasha touched his shoulder. "Please, Gray. Stay in your seat. It's all right. No one will hurt you. You don't have to be afraid."

The wild terror faded from his eyes. Tasha slid her hand into his hair and stroked it like he was a child. He leaned back, his breaths slowly steadying as the plane rose into the air and gravity pressed them back into their seats.

"I'm sorry," said Jason. Gray didn't respond, didn't look like he'd heard.

"It's all right," said Tasha. "Now that you know, just...try to be more careful."

Jason nodded, feeling sick. He'd had no idea until he'd seen Gray's reaction how deeply he'd been hurt. But it made sense. Jason had had trouble being touched after what Gray had done to him. To experience not only torture but something even more degrading and horrific—no wonder he had PTSD symptoms. Jason knew what it was like to some extent, but in some ways he had no idea….and he had no idea how to help him. What he'd done had just made things worse. With such a recent injury, of course he was not recovered. Tasha was right. If he was still so traumatized, how could he do his job? Would he be a liability to the mission? Or would he even get that far before it became evident he wasn't useful and be returned to the CIA detention center? Was there a way that Jason could help him, or should he just keep his distance?

The plane lifted through the clouds, and Jason walked to another seat. Connie followed him. He sat by the window, watching the clouds glide by, her head on his shoulder, his heart troubled.

After lunch, Markov called them into the conference room in the back of the plane. Gray did not join them.


	15. Passion

Connie sat at the conference table in the back room of the plane. She was trying to concentrate on what Markov was saying, but she kept zoning out and watching the pictures of his PowerPoint on the wall, which were equally nonsensical but at least were colorful. Jason sat beside her, looking rapt, as if it was the most interesting thing he'd ever heard. So were Saul and Leila and Tasha and the other agents. Gray wasn't present.

She wanted to be able to help Jason as much as possible, so she needed to at least sort of understand what was going on and not just be deadweight. But all these agents knew much more than she did already, so she didn't know how much "help" she could provide without getting in the way. She could just focus on having fun…but this trip wasn't just about having fun. She wanted to support Jason in whatever way she could. It would be hard to even do a fraction of the amount that was already second nature to the agents, but she had to try.

She made another effort to focus on the words and understand what the Muldavian security director was saying.

"Yavesh works in self-contained cells, which communicate with each other anonymously. This makes it almost impossible to bring down the organization, because if you capture members from one cell, they won't be able to lead you to another.

"However, it also has a hierarchy. If one cell seems to do particularly well, their superiors will send in a scout to scoop up the individual most responsible for its success. My agent was trying to rise in the ranks before he was killed. He gathered most of the intel I'm sharing with you now. Before we sent him in, we didn't even know for sure if we were really dealing with a cohesive organization or just small-time criminals trying to make an extra mina.

"The hierarchy, however, remains completely opaque. We have no idea who organizes it at the central level. Until we find out what lies at the core, we'll only be fighting the symptoms, not the disease. But we must fight it, even if it seems like a losing battle, because if we give up, we will be surrendering our country to ruthless criminals with no respect for human life or the rule of law.

"I know you're all professionals; you've been around the block. But Yavesh is in a whole different category. It's comparable to ISIS in its calculated brutality. The difference is, it works in shadows and doesn't display its evil on the Internet. Our evidence comes from smuggled cell phone video like this."

An image flashed on the screen. It showed about nine girls lined up along a wall. A man stood in front of them, speaking in harsh tones in a foreign language. As he spoke, some of the girls began to cry silently, tears streaking their cheeks. They oldest was probably only fifteen. One of the girls began sobbing, and the others tried to comfort her. The man stepped forward. He grabbed the sobbing girl and wrenched her away from the others, slammed her to the cement floor. She cried out, her knees scraping painfully. The man jammed his gun to her head.

Connie nudged Jason's shoulder. "I can't watch this," she whispered.

"You don't have to. You can just—"

The gun went off. But the girl was not harmed. She writhed away in fear. The man grabbed her by the hair and lifted her up against the wall. Shoved the gun against her shoulder.

Boom!

Blood—screams—too much blood.

Connie tore outside of the room. The door slammed. She leaned against the wall, shaking. Her heart thudded hard in her ears like the reverberations of the gunshot. She slid down to the floor, leaned her head in her hands. Tears slipped onto her cheeks.

How could anyone do that to an innocent girl?

A half-sob squeaked from her throat but she was in too much shock to cry.

She didn't have the right to cry….not after what she'd seen. At the same time, how could she do anything but cry? How could she let this happen—but she had no way to stop it—she was totally inadequate, how could she possibly think she could do anything—she'd just be a hindrance to Jason—probably would've been best if she'd stayed home.

The image flashed again across her mind and she fled it—anything to get it out of her head.

She ran down the aisle to the front of the plane, past the curtain where the food was located.

Someone moved in the shadows. Wide panicked eyes.

Then the figure stilled, steadied into someone familiar.

"Oh, it's you," said Gray. He held a glass in his hand, sloshing with an amber liquid.

"Are you all right?" Part of her was grateful for something to focus on; part of her wanted to be alone.

"Of course I'm all right." His voice was cold, hard, although there was a slight quaver to it.

"I'm not." She didn't know why she said that, only that she was still shaken.

"You can take what you want from the bar, you know." He indicated the glittering wine glasses, stacked neatly on the rack, and the dark gleam of various bottles with elegant labels.

"I don't drink."

"Probably a good idea not to self-medicate. I should have joined the meeting instead of coming back here. It was a…momentary weakness. But it appears that meeting wasn't worth it anyway."

"It was too much for me. They—" She tried to keep from seeing the image again—"showed a video of a man shooting a girl. I couldn't watch any more."

"My old self wouldn't have flinched at such a thing but now…perhaps it's good I didn't go to it. They were human trafficking victims?"

Connie nodded. "I want to help but I don't think I can. I'm not cut out for this. I'm no agent."

"I used to be an agent…but now I don't belong with them either. I am…little more than a slave myself." His eyes were haunted. The terrible sorrow in them cut her to her heart. He was not the same Gray as before….perhaps she could help him. And in doing so, find a way to forgive the Gray he had been….

"Connie!" Jason dashed up to her. "Are you all right?"

"I'm okay."

"I'm sorry I didn't come right out after you. But Markov delayed me. Are you sure you're okay?" He laid his hand on her arm.

"Yeah…I am now. I ran into someone." She gave Gray a hesitant smile.

"Are you all right, Gray? I didn't see you at the meeting."

"Yes," Gray said, tugging his left sleeve down over his new, unstained bandage. "I will…try to make the next meeting." He lowered his eyes. "Please disregard my reaction earlier. You just…startled me. I…am still not myself."

"I understand. I know what it's like to be…recovering from a traumatic experience."

Gray looked at him sharply as if not sure if he meant more than he was saying. Then he gave a curt nod, set the half-empty glass down, and went back to a seat.

Connie sat down beside Jason along the window, away from the others. Tiny waves glistened far below like carved blue ice.

"I'm sorry I ran out," said Connie. "It's just that—I couldn't watch."

"It's good you're not used to seeing such things. I can have a bit of a clinical detachment if I block myself off, but this time, I felt like running out too. It's not war—it's the torture of young girls. I can't close myself off from it—and I shouldn't. I should let my feelings drive me to do something about it." He looked out the window, the sky reflecting in his eyes, making them an even more brilliant blue.

* * *

Connie shot awake. Lifted her head from Jason's white shirt. _Good, I wasn't drooling,_ she thought.

"Hey," said Jason, and kissed her lightly on the mouth.

Heat suffused her cheeks. "Someone might be watching."

"So what? Besides, most people are sleeping."

Sure enough, most people had their seats reclined. The sun shone golden into the windows from the west.

He kissed her delicately along her jaw. She gasped and pulled away. She wanted more of his kisses, but didn't want the chance of someone watching what was theirs alone to share.

He whispered, "If you want some privacy, we could go into the conference room and lock the door."

"Someone would find out," she whispered.

"Some time alone would be nice, though, wouldn't it?"

She nodded. It did sound nice; they probably were only halfway across the ocean, and it would be a while before they could be alone together again. She still wasn't sure about this, but excitement laced through her. She let him lead her to the conference room.

Inside, it was warm and dark. His hand moved to the small of her back and guided her gently to him.

He kissed her slowly, lusciously. She savored his touch. She'd been away from him, from this, for too long.

Alarm cut through her mind. "Jason, is the door locked?"

"Oh! I forgot." He rushed to the door and locked it, then returned to her, fire in his eyes. "So, where were we?"

"Here," she said, sliding her hands around his back, and pressing her lips softly to his. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close, her cheek against his, his soft hair entwined in her fingers. She reveled in the fact that she was this close to him at last. She'd needed this without realizing it.

He slipped her hair to the side and kissed her neck. She leaned back against the table; he consumed her lips in a fiery kiss. He lifted her onto the table and she let out a shriek of surprise. She hoped no one had heard….although any embarrassment she might feel was muffled by her desire.

He climbed onto the table with her and slid back the fabric of her shirt a fraction to kiss the top of her shoulder.

He lifted her into his arms—she laughed—he gave her a deep, passionate kiss that left her breathless.

Then he slid back off the table. "I think—that better be it for now."

"But Jason!"

"If we're in here any longer, someone might miss us. Besides, now that we're back together—I need you even more. You fulfill every part of who I am." His eyes were fervent in the dark. "I was starting to forget where we are."

She needed to be closer to him too—but he was right. She didn't want to get too carried away, yet.

She slid off the table and smoothed her shirt. "Here," he said. He slid his hand softly into her hair and drew down a strand that must've gotten mussed up.

She ruffled his hair into an artfully messy style and slung her arm around his waist. They walked out of the conference room, most people still sleeping in the same positions, hopefully none the wiser.

They walked back to their seats. She entwined her fingers through his. She couldn't stand not touching him in one way or another, even if it was torture not to be as close as they'd been a few moments before.

Markov strode down the aisle as if from nowhere.

"I want to talk to you," he said in a stern voice. She shrank back, afraid he might not have approved of their using his conference room for personal purposes.

"What about?" asked Jason.

He sat down across the aisle facing them, leaning forward, his hands folded over his knees. His dark eyes were earnest. "What they showed in the conference room was too much for you, Connie, wasn't it."

"I'm sorry. I'm not used to that sort of thing."

"That's the problem. You're a civilian, I get that. But if you're going to be a part of this, you've got to get over your squeamishness."

"Wait just a minute," said Jason, an undercurrent of anger in his voice. "It's a good thing that things like that bother her. Sometimes we agents take our detachment too far. Keeps us from acting."

"On the contrary, it keeps us from acting rashly. Anything done from emotion instead of from reason is courting disaster. Of course we can let ourselves feel. But sometimes those feelings can be a liability. We cannot let them control our actions."

"I agree to a certain extent. But these are children. Being used for horrible, unspeakable things. If we're stifling our compassion for them, our effectiveness can be dulled."

"Or we can let our passion rule, rush in, and get ourselves killed and do nothing to help the cause." He sighed, looked at Connie. "What I mean is, this is just symptomatic of a larger issue. You are no agent; your ability to help us will be limited, and if you remain ignorant, your tenderheartedness and your well-meaning attempts to help may keep the real agents from doing their jobs."

Connie flinched inwardly at the harsh words. She'd already been thinking such things.

"I…I want to help," she said. "But maybe it's better that I just stay out of the way."

"She will help as much or as little as she wants," said Jason, the anger more than an undercurrent now. "We aren't employed by you but by Mr. Brand to find his son. We're helping only because our interests coincide. You cannot tell us how much or how little we're going to be involved in your own operation."

Markov blinked, as if taken aback a little. Then he said, "You may not be employed by us, but if you're going to work with us, you'll need to follow certain protocol. The bare minimum of competence. I will not have my operations messed up by amateurs."

Connie felt tears spring to her eyes. She loved how Jason defended her, but she knew Markov was right. "It's probably best if I stay out of the way." She looked at Jason. "I don't belong with all these agents anyway. I'll do some investigating if I can but I'm not going on any agent adventures."

Jason smiled a little. "I'm not sure how many agent adventures I'll be going on myself." He looked at Markov. "I have no obligation to help beyond the parameters of my own mission. I want to help Muldavia… but I will do so in my own way." He stood. "And the next time you talk that way to my wife, I won't be so forgiving."

Markov's eyebrows rose. Then he nodded. "Fair enough. But it is also fair to point out that this game is a dangerous one. And if you want to help, you should learn quickly—or stay out of the way."

He stood and strode down the aisle.

Jason sat back down. "We _are_ guests on his plane. But we didn't promise anything either. It's not like I can singlehandedly fix their country like I apparently did last time." He sighed, sat back against the seat.

"You are amazing. I could never do what you do—I won't even try. But I still want to help."

"You can."

"How much can I really do though? I didn't understand half of what he was saying in the meeting."

"Anything you can do will help."

"But it's not enough! If not even the agents can help those girls….maybe I don't belong here. But I can't stand by while I know things like that are happening! They're hurting them—I—" A sob built in her throat. She sought solace against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her. "Contrary to what Markov said, a tender heart is a strength, not a weakness." He kissed her tear-damp cheek. But she couldn't help but wonder whether he was right.

* * *

The plane landed in the dark on a rainy airfield. Connie stirred awake, sleepily grabbing her carryon. Outside, a limousine drove up. It turned out it was for them and Tasha and Gray.

They rode through rain-soaked streets, some of them cobblestone. Brick buildings, some ancient, rose up around them. A few were tall, modern, glistening like obsidian. On the edge of town, perched on a hill, stood a palace. Made of white stone, it gleamed against the darkness.

They drove down a long, winding driveway, past elegantly sculptured shrubs, gardens, fountains, statues. Then the limo pulled up under an archway. Jason helped Connie out of the car. She still felt half-asleep; all this seemed like a dream.

A man resplendent in a white suit glittering with jewels stepped out, a crown on his head. A woman beside him in a royal purple dress.

With a shock, Connie realized the man looked a lot like Jason.

Jason bowed; Connie followed suit, rather awkwardly. Tasha and Gray bowed elegantly.

The woman swept forward—she was like a grand lady, larger than life. She took Connie's hand. "I am Darya Regina, Queen of Muldavia. I'm very happy to meet you."

Connie stuttered out her own name, not entirely certain she got it right.

The man took her hand, kissed it. "I am pleased to meet you. I'm Roderick, king of Muldavia, but you may call me James. Welcome." He gave her a smile.

The king and queen ushered them into the palace, and Connie fell headfirst into a dreamworld.


	16. Entrance

The rain pattered on the roof. Jason stood by the window, looking out over the palace grounds. The sky was gray, the grounds drenched in rain. He had never been in the palace, but he felt at home here, and more at ease than he had the last time he'd visited this country…all the danger had leeched out of it. It was free now. Yes, in part, due to him, but mostly due to Tasha and James. The King had rebuilt his country into something remarkable over the past 17 years.

Seventeen years! Jason couldn't believe it. He felt a twinge of annoyance that he was so old. He'd only been in his early twenties last time….close to the age that his beautiful bride still was.

He turned away from the window to see Connie still asleep, lying in the grand, four-poster bed. She was all tangled up in the sheets, her hair tousled, her bare leg twining around a purple velvet blanket. She looked entrancing. _I have a queen of my own_ , he thought, and stepped toward her as if drawn by a magnet.

Her brown hair framed her face, some of it twined across her neck. Carefully, he lifted a strand from her forehead, sliding it back to admire her incomparable beauty. As beautiful as she was now, she was even more so when her green eyes snapped with delight, when her mouth curved upwards into a smile. In a way, it didn't really seem fair to her to just admire her without her knowing, as if he was taking something from her without her permission. She should be able to look at him too, equally—admire him, or not. He needed the dynamic Connie, not the one in repose. The whole of her, not this quiet, external version that only hinted at the astonishing being she was.

Though he longed to look into her gorgeous eyes, see the love he didn't deserve shining from them, he didn't want to wake her until she was ready. Part of this was a vacation, after all. A second honeymoon after the horrible darkness that had torn them apart—an agony he never wanted to go through again, never wanted to even think about.

He sat down on the bed and slid under the covers, intending to read until she awoke. Despite his caution, she stirred and flipped over to face him.

"Hey, Jason," she said.

"Hey my beautiful Connie."

He drew his fingers gently along her cheek; she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. Kissed the side of his hand. Just that kiss sent thrills through him, reminding him of last night, the second time since the absence that they were fully husband and wife again. He'd tried to be slow and deliberate at first, but at some point his passion had taken over and he could hardly remember anything but her kisses, her hot skin against his, her furious love.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and tipped his forehead against hers, gazing into her eyes.

She moved her head slightly up and down so it looked like her eyes were see-sawing.

He laughed.

"My mom used to do that when I was little," she said.

"Mine too." A flash of memory, of his mother's twinkling eyes, her fiery hair.

"Mom liked you, you know. Respected you. I think…she'd have liked that we're married."

"My mom too. I wish…she'd have gotten to know you."

"I wish I would've met her. She sounded amazing."

"So are you."

She nodded, looking a little pensive. "I never feel…quite in your league."

"Connie! You are—more than I could ever hope for. More than I could have ever dreamed." He kissed her cheek. She nuzzled his face, gave him light little kisses next to his ear.

"You are my amazing Jason," she whispered.

He wrapped his arm around her, drawing her closer, the silky nightgown sliding against his chest. Delicately, he traced her shoulders, back to the indent of her spine, going up and down with the feather-touch of one finger.

She closed her eyes and tucked her face into his shoulder. "Mmm," she said.

"You like this?"

She nodded. She ran her hand through his hair, down the back of his neck. He drew in a sharp breath.

"You okay?" she said.

"Yeah. You're just—amazing." He kissed her cheek fervently. "I need all of you—but at the same time, this is more than enough." He took her wrist in his hand, kissed it.

She sat up against the pillows, the sheet falling to her waist. She traced his cheekbone. "It's funny how you look like him. The king, I mean. He's like you if you were older."

"And better-looking." He slid up to sit beside her.

"Stop it, Jason! You're perfect. But what if you're some long-lost royalty or something?"

He laughed. "That would be…interesting. My father said we might have once had cousins over here."

"Really?" Her eyes lit up.

He shrugged. "We've never really looked into it." Even though she was part of the family now, he didn't want to assume his father wanted him to tell her the secret, the time as a young man he'd been a king for a day to save a nation.

"I don't know if I'd want to be royalty…I want you all to myself." She slid out of bed, the pink silk nightgown draped regally over her body.

"Are you cold?"

She nodded.

He headed over to the fireplace, surrounded by comfy chairs, and stoked it back to life, added some logs. Soon it was radiating glowing heat.

Connie lounged in the puffiest chair, a soft blanket pulled up to her neck. "I suppose we should get up and get dressed."

"If you want. They serve breakfast all morning in the adjoining room."

"Wow. It's like a grand hotel!"

"James sure is treating us. I suppose we shouldn't take too much advantage of his hospitality. We're here on a mission, after all."

She flung out one arm. "Can we dance?"

"Sure." He took her hand, kissed it. Swirled her onto her feet. He imagined slow, beautiful music and led her in a dance over the soft carpet.

She leaned her head on his chest, traced one of the knife scars on his shoulder, then kissed the jagged mark. "I wish I could erase your pain somehow, make it so it never happened."

"I don't mind the scars so much anymore, now that I know you love me with them. The worst scars are—here." He pressed his hand over his heart. "They're not gone, just faded. But maybe some good can come out of them, if I let it."

She looked up at him, her eyes shining. "That's another thing I love about you, Jason. You can find good even in pain. Such horrible things—I can't even think about it without it hurting my heart. I hope you never have to experience anything close to that again." She kissed the scar on his cheek.

"I never want to either. I don't want the chance I could ever be torn from you." He kissed her on the mouth. Lifted her up in his arms, still kissing her. She shrieked, never quite pulling away from his lips. He twirled her around and she laughed, the fireplace and the rainy sky whirling past them.

"My Connie." He swept her closer and kissed her again.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and their kiss deepened. He needed her—needed more of her—nothing else mattered.

A knock on the door. He almost dropped her, but set her down gently, his mind in a haze. He only wanted to be with the one he loved. Maybe they should just pretend they were still asleep….

The knocking became more insistent. "It's me, Tasha," said a muffled voice.

Jason's heart thumped hard. He scrambled for the bathroom and swept his bathrobe over his chest, tying the sash tight around his waist. Then he dashed to the door and opened it.

"Hi," said Tasha. "I'm sorry to bother you but—"

Connie peeked from behind him. "Hi, Tasha."

"Hi, Connie." Her face flushed; she dropped her eyes. "I can't find Gray. I went to check if he was awake but he's gone."

"Gone?" Jason's heart flipped. "He's not in his room?"

She shook her head. "I came to you first—I want others to know as little as possible about what he's gone through. But if he can't hold it together, they'll find out anyway."

"Don't worry. I'll help you."

"Me too," said Connie.

Jason stepped out into the hall.

Tasha blushed, unusually coloring her pale complexion. "Um—Jason—maybe you should get dressed first."

"Oh. Right." He shut the door and pulled on some jeans and a shirt. Connie slipped into a white dress with a flowing skirt that fluttered past her knees.

They joined Tasha in the hallway. "How far have you gone?"

"Just our suite, including the bathroom. I don't want to go where we're not invited, but I also don't want anyone else to find him in case…something's gone wrong."

"I'm sure James won't mind us exploring the palace. He said as much last night."

"Yes, but I don't want to take advantage of his generosity."

"We don't really have a choice."

She nodded grimly and Jason followed her. His hand sought Connie's. "I hope he's okay," she said. "It…feels strange to want that."

"It means you've started to forgive him."

She nodded.

Tentatively, Tasha knocked on one of the other doors—tall, made with dark wood, an ornate frame with scenes of clashing armies, galloping horses carved across it. The door swung open; no one was inside.

They tried the next few doors with the same result. Until they came to one of the doors toward the center of the hall.

"Just a minute!" said a muffled voice. A moment later the door opened and a face peeked out. A teenage girl with beige skin, masses of dark brown hair tumbling over her shoulders, soulful brown eyes. "Hello," she said in a soft accent. "What's going on?"

"We were just wondering if you've seen a man—"

Her eyes grew wide. "No, I haven't seen any men. Not since I got here of course, last night with my brother."

"Thank you. We'll keep looking."

She opened the door wider, stepping out in a lacy lavender nightgown. "Who you looking for?"

"Just—the man I'm working with."

"You're not Tasha, are you?"

Tasha nodded.

"Uncle James told me about you! So did Mama and Papa. You helped get Papa out of jail. And you must be Jason!" She took a step toward him. "You look like Uncle James."

"Are you…." He racked his mind for the name, buried deep in memory. "Zara?"

She laughed. "No, don't be silly. Zara's like, five years older than me. She's in college. I'm Luna."

"Oh. I don't think I remember you, then."

"Yes you do!"

"I do?"

"Mama was pregnant with me when you guys came to visit us and rescued Uncle James."

"Oh. I do remember that. Your mom's Marija, your dad's Stefan?"

She nodded vigorously. "They're coming later. Me and Stefan—my brother—got here last night. We don't want to miss the festival!" She looked at Connie. "Who're you?"

Jason wrapped his arm around her. "This is my wife, Connie."

"Hi," said Connie, holding out her hand. "It's nice to meet you."

Luna shook her hand. "You weren't here last time, were you?"

Connie laughed. "No, I was just a kid back then."

"Yeah, you don't look that old."

"But I do," said Jason.

"I didn't mean—Oh, I'm always saying the wrong things!"

Jason laughed. "That's okay. I'm kidding. We really need to get going though."

"I'll get dressed and help you find your friend." She dashed inside and closed the door.

Tasha looked at Jason, a wry smile on her face. Then she led the way down the hall, knocking on doors. The rooms were either locked or empty.

Finally they reached the end and opened a larger door onto a huge room with marble floors, flanked by colonnades, decorated with statues and elegant portraits. Beside the large main doors, filigreed with gold, stood two men, their voices echoing, indistinct.

Jason, Connie and Tasha approached them. As they got closer, Jason realized it was James and a young man with curly dark hair. _Probably Luna's brother_ , he thought _. Only two years old when I left. Seeing all these kids grown up does make me feel old….Connie's closer to their age than mine._ He glanced at her; she smiled. He marveled again that she'd chosen him, of all people.

"Good morning, your Majesty," said Tasha, bowing.

"No, please don't stand on ceremony with me. You're the reason I'm here, after all. My honored guests." He gave a swift, elegant bow. The young man beside him did the same, the hint of a smile on his lips, his eyes dancing with good humor and mischief.

"This is Stefan, my—well, they always call me uncle, though we're not related. He's here with his sister, Luna. I'm sure you remember their parents, Marija and Stefan."

"Of course," said Tasha. "We remember you as well. We met your sister a moment ago."

Stefan laughed. "Luna's up already?"

"We might've woken her up," said Jason. "We're looking for—the man we came with, Gray."

"Oh, that's who he is?" said Stefan. "I ran into him a little bit ago."

"Where did he go?" said Tasha.

Stefan waved a hand vaguely toward the front doors. "Strange man. He looked as if he were afraid of me. But then, I did run into him, _literally_. And I'm afraid I hurt him." He frowned. "Maybe he had a right to be scared of me. It's just that—he looked terrified. Or sick. Maybe he did need help."

"You didn't think to tell me this?" said James, an eyebrow raised.

"I forgot, till just now. Mama called, like I was telling you, and they're bringing Grandpapa too because he's feeling better and—Well, anyway. I'll make up for it by helping you find him."

"We can handle it," said Tasha.

"You sure? I mean, it's kind of my fault."

"It might be best if…someone he knows found him."

Stefan nodded. "If I may ask, what happened to him? He had a bandage on his arm."

"He's been through some…terrible things that I'd rather not go into."

"What can I do?"

"You can be careful around him. It's men who have hurt him. And—don't mention this to anyone."

"Sure."

"You can go anywhere you like, indoors or outdoors," said James. "Let me know if you need anything. I can lend you my guards."

"That would be…less than ideal, at least—for now."

He inclined his head graciously.

"Some umbrellas would be nice," said Jason.

"Your wish is my command." James sent Stefan for the umbrellas and in a moment he returned with three of them and handed them out.

Jason and Connie followed Tasha out into the porch and popped up their umbrellas. Then they headed out into the rain.

"I think we should split up," said Tasha. "We'll cover more ground that way."

"Should I approach him alone? After what happened on the plane…."

"Use your discretion. It's true that what Stefan inadvertently did might have triggered a panic attack….You have your cell phone, right?"

Jason nodded.

"If he looks too distraught to go near, call me. He's learned to trust me to a certain extent."

"Is he…suicidal at all?"

"He has been," she said grimly. "But he seemed to regain a bit of hope when I told him about this mission. If he'll be able to follow through with it, it'll help him recover."

"It's too bad he had to go back into the field so soon, though. I mean, his injuries aren't even healed; you can't expect his mind to be healed."

"His more recent injuries were self-inflicted." Tasha turned and walked off toward the rolling hills, a forest hinted, misty in the rain, mountains vague outlines in the distance.

"Do you think Tasha meant we should split up too?" Connie asked.

Jason shrugged. "We can do what we want, since we're freelancers. She's not our boss; we're just working with her."

"I'd rather stay with you. Unless—you think I should go off on my own. I just…don't really feel comfortable doing that, especially since I left my phone in the room."

He slung an arm around her waist. "I don't ever want you further than this, you know that." He kissed her forehead. "Besides…it might be better for you to approach him, considering his problems with men. If you're okay with that."

She nodded. "I'll try….I'm not terribly comfortable with it, but I do want to help in whatever way I can, and let him know I want to help him."

They walked down a stone path that led to a great arbor, like a tunnel, that had flowering vines crawling all over it, so thick they blocked out most of the rain.

"I can hardly believe Gray would actually go that far, to actually...hurt himself," said Connie. "I had friends that struggled with self-harm in high school, but Gray seems like he wouldn't be that kind of person. I suppose it does make sense considering what he's gone through."

"Before, he seemed almost invincible to me. I can't imagine what...what happened...would do to someone, no matter how strong he was."

"Do you think he'll ever get back to normal?"

"I hope not. I mean, I don't want him to keep suffering, but I hope he'll be able to beat this, and become a better person through it."

Out of the tunnel, huge bushes lined the path like walls. Further on, the bushes were carved into sculptures of many different shapes. Then they ended in a vast field covered in roses in a rainbow of colors. As dramatic as they looked now, they must've been stunning when it wasn't raining. In the center of the rose garden sat a large white gazebo—and inside, Jason could just make out the shadowy form of a man.

"If that's Gray, I'll see if he's okay with me going near him. If not, I'll let you try."

Connie nodded, her green eyes wide, anxious.

His heart pounded as he reluctantly let go of Connie's hand and walked toward the gazebo, his shoes tapping on the wet stones.

As he got closer, it looked more and more like Gray. He was sitting on a bench, his back to Jason, wearing a white T-shirt. He was bent over, but Jason would know those broad shoulders, that slim but powerful figure and amber-blond hair anywhere.

Jason crept toward the steps, then realized it probably wasn't the best idea to creep up on him. But he didn't want to startle him, either. He really had no idea if he had come out in fear or was just out here to enjoy the garden in peace.

He cleared his throat. Gray whirled around, crouched as if ready to run, terror emblazoned across his pale face.

"It's all right. It's me, Jason."

"J-Jason?" said Gray.

It was then that Jason noticed the blood dripping down Gray's arm.


	17. Mission

"Are you all right?" asked Jason. Horror twisted through him at the bloody mess that shredded Gray's wrist and lower left arm.

"Yeah, I—" He clutched his arm, as if trying to shield it from view. "I just—needed some fresh air."

"Can I come up?"

Gray nodded absently. Jason wasn't sure if it was the best call, but he had to do something.

As Jason walked up the steps, Gray backed away until he was leaning against the opposite railing. He looked from side to side, as if trying to see a way to escape.

Jason spread out his hands. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"I know that." His voice quavered, belying his words.

Jason gestured to his arm. "You need medical attention."

Gray glanced at his arm as if he was surprised it was a part of him. "It's nothing."

"Gray—"

He flinched, as if he expected Jason to tear into him. Jason took a step back, leaned against the railing, slick with rain. He'd have to tread carefully—or just call Connie or Tasha. But in a way, he felt it was his responsibility.

"Tasha's worried about you."

"I don't know why. I'm hardly an asset."

"Not just as an asset. As a person."

Gray looked down, then tentatively caught Jason's eyes. "I understand that even less. And why you'd be concerned about me. You should _want_ this." He grasped his arm.

"I don't. I want you to get better, Gray."

"That's not even my real name. It's a name I'm unworthy of. Besides, why would you want me to return to the way I was? Even if I could. That person tortured you mercilessly."

A twinge of phantom pain flashed across Jason's back, where the whip had slashed…. He took a deep breath. "I don't want you to become the same person. I want you to become a better person."

"Even if I wanted to, how could anything good come out of—this?" He raked his fingernails across his arm, ploughing through the bloody gashes.

Jason leaped forward, then caught himself, stopping in the center of the gazebo. "Please, don't do that to yourself."

"I deserve much worse. I deserve to go back to the cell, let them—" He choked. Closed his eyes, shuddering.

Jason ripped a piece off the bottom of his shirt. "Please, let me help you." He approached carefully, holding out the cloth.

"I don't want help," he said sharply, looking up. Then he said more softly, more anguished, "I don't want to need help."

"There's no shame in needing help."

He grimaced. "I suppose I'll have to get used to it. It's better than…my other option. I just…don't know if I can do this mission at all. If I can't even let myself be touched—if everything scares me—if I keep having nightmares….How much of an asset can this be? I'm more of a liability."

"You know how to be an agent, even if you've…been out of the game for a while. It's just too bad you had to go back in the field this soon. But Gray, those symptoms you mentioned don't make you weak. It just means you have PTSD. I should know….I went through it too."

"I thought I was immune to the effects."

"No one else would be able to go through what you did without having the same symptoms."

He tipped his head. "How much did Tasha tell you. About what happened to me." His voice was dark, strained.

Jason pursed his lips. "She…said you were tortured horribly. Much worse than I was. I can't even imagine what you went through."

"You don't want to," he said in a barely audible voice. He snatched the cloth from Jason's hand, wound it quickly around his arm, some of the blood seeping through the white fabric.

He turned away, looking out at the garden, the colors dulled by the mist of rain. He stood there for a few minutes; Jason wasn't sure what to do. He longed to give him the comfort of a human touch that did not hurt, but he didn't want to startle him either. Jason wasn't sure how to help him. His mission would be separate, too—pursuing illegal weapons sales instead of human trafficking. At least that would not be as sensitive an issue for Gray.

"If there's anything I can do, just let me know. If the mission gets to be too much for you, I'll take it on instead."

Gray whirled around. "I do not want to be that helpless."

"You're not recovered yet. Some things will be hard until you're better."

"I have to go on this mission. Whether I'm ready or not."

"All right. I won't take your place. But I'll help you if I find out you're in trouble. Don't hesitate to call me."

A puzzled expression crossed Gray's guarded face. "I don't understand why you'd want to help me. But I suppose I do need it…till I'm back on my feet. Until I can be an agent again." Longing haunted his eyes. "I don't know if I can. But I'll have to try to keep from being afraid—at least enough so I don't go running off like a coward just because some innocent boy ran into me. Even if I have to resort to _this_ in private." He grasped his arm.

"Gray—please don't hurt yourself again. I can't possibly know how you feel, how deeply this has impacted you so you feel like you have to hurt yourself. But it's not going to make things better. I'm no expert—but see if you can find constructive ways to deal with it, instead of destructive ways that'll only hurt your mission."

Gray's eyes sparked. He nodded.

"And –if you ever need someone to talk to, you can come to me."

"Thank you, Jason." A small smile tugged at the edge of his mouth. "I think that the best way for me to get over this is to be an agent. Or at least, try to. It's in my blood; it's all that I am. Without it, I'll always be broken. If I can even get some semblance of what I was ….Until then, I'll try to find constructive ways to….deal with this. Even though I don't even deserve to be an agent again—I never was one in the first place, really—I was always capable of becoming _this_ —this pathetic creature that can't even cope with—couldn't even defend himself when—" He took a deep breath. Looked down, pink suffusing his cheeks. "I will try—try to keep above this, deal with it—but with all this—mess inside, I can't make any promises."

He clung to the railing for a moment, his head leaning out in the rain, droplets dripping off of his blond hair. Then he turned and without a glance at Jason he strode out the gazebo and down the steps, avoiding Connie even when she offered him her umbrella.

Jason's heart swelled with love for her at this simple, kind gesture. Even if she hadn't forgiven Gray, she was making an effort. And that, Jason knew from experience, was hard. It became easier, but the hardest part of forgiveness was not acknowledging it but going out of your way to help the one that needed to be forgiven.

He strode out of the gazebo and popped up his umbrella again. He walked down the path and joined Connie, stunning in her white dress. He kissed her cheek when he reached her; she laughed, gave him a quick kiss on the lips. Then she twined her hand in his and they walked back through the garden toward the palace.

Jason called Tasha and told her they'd found Gray. As they neared the palace, the rain poured harder, gusts of wind pressing against their umbrellas. Gray walked slowly ahead of them, getting drenched by the rain.

They stepped into the entryway and shook the water off their umbrellas before closing them. Tasha dashed in, soaking wet, her umbrella inside out. "It's turning into an actual storm out there."

They walked into the brightly lit front hall. Gray stood near one of the statues. Tasha hurried over to him, spoke to him in low tones. She led him down the hallway of private suites.

A man in a black suit and tie walked up to them. "His Majesty would like you to join him for breakfast."

"We wouldn't miss it," said Jason. They followed the man to the left. A door opened onto another grand room with an elegantly painted ceiling, images of war and peace swirling across it.

The king and queen sat at the head of a long mahogany table, as glossy as a dark mirror. Stefan lounged with his arm draped around the back of the chair, his ruffled shirt open at the collar, his dark curls spilling to his shoulders. Luna leaned forward, her arms leaning on the table, her face alight with excitement as she spoke.

"Welcome!" said James, lifting an arm and beckoning them closer. "Don't let the setting fool you; we're very informal here, as long as it's not a state dinner."

The queen gave a gracious smile. Luna waved vigorously. Stefan regarded them with interest as they approached.

Jason sat down to the left of Stefan, and Connie sat down at his side.

"Did you find your companion?" asked the queen.

It took Jason a moment to figure out she was talking about Gray. "Yes, we did. He's all right."

"Good. Will he be joining us?"

"I'm not sure. He…he has to get into some dry clothes first."

"It's too bad your visit had to coincide with the rainy season," said the king, "although we can't help what time of year our Centennial falls on."

Stefan leaned forward, resting a ruffled sleeve on the table. "The man I ran into…."

"Gray."

"I didn't hurt him, did I?"

"No, he's all right. You just…startled him, that's all."

"I'll try to be more careful next time. What happened to him, anyway?"

"It's a sensitive issue, so I don't think he'd want us talking about it."

"Sure." Stefan leaned back as if satisfied, but curiosity smoldered in his dark eyes.

"We were just talking about the festival," said Luna. "You're coming, aren't you?"

"We'd love to," said Jason.

"When does it start?" said Connie.

"It kicks off tonight. There's gonna be fireworks! And James is coming. I mean, the prince."

"You can call him James, you know," said the king. "You practically grew up together."

"I know, it's just confusing. He used to be Jamie but he doesn't want to be called that anymore." Her lower lip pouted.

James looked at Jason. "We used to call my son Jamie to distinguish him from me. But now that he's sixteen, he thinks Jamie is babyish and so he wants to be called James. I suppose I'll have to choose another name. Which will be confusing for the people, but…c'est la vie." He smiled. He had hints of gray in his hair that he hadn't had seventeen years ago, and carried more cares in his face, but he also seemed happier, more fulfilled. Though there was still an undercurrent of sorrow, nearly muffled by an all-encompassing joy and a less rough and reserved demeanor from his days as an exile in the Czech mountains. He was now fully king, with a confident but not proud manner, easy, approachable. He'd grown into his role, become a king that Muldavia could be proud of. A twinge of happiness pierced his heart for having had a small role in bringing this king to power and toppling the communists that had smothered the country.

"You _are_ King Roderick," said Darya, looking at him with affection. "So you could take on that name." She whispered in his ear. He laughed. Laced his fingers through hers.

"You may call me Roderick, I suppose. Although I associate it with my father. Or you may choose from among any of my other hundred names." His hearty laugh echoed through the room.

Three men in identical black suits entered, bearing silver trays. They set the trays onto the table, lifting the lids, revealing breakfast food of all kinds. A delicious smell wafted through the room; Jason realized he was hungry, especially after their excursion this morning.

Two more of the servants set plates and silverware in front of them. Connie gestured to her fork, mouthing, Is this real silver?

Jason replied, Probably.

Roderick bowed his head, and the others followed suit. He prayed for the meal and for the state of the nation. He thanked God for Luna's grandfather's recovery, and for the fact that Jason and Connie had joined them.

Then everyone dug in. Jason snatched up two large sausages, several potato rolls, toast, cheese, strawberries. He picked up one strawberry and lifted it to Connie's lips. She bit into it, closing her eyes. "Mmmm." Juice ran down her chin. She hurriedly wiped it away with a cloth napkin.

"These strawberries are really good," she said. "Where are they from?"

"They're from the Dakaley district," said the king. "The best strawberries in the world, in my opinion."

The sausages were plump, juicy, with just the right amount of spice. He was so hungry that he dove into the whole meal and barely looked up until his plate was empty.

"Have all you want," said Roderick. "There's more where that came from. Privileges of being a king. Although—I find myself longing for the simplicity of the Romani camp, or the stillness of the mountains….I do like to treat my guests, but overall, I really try to keep my personal expenses as austere is possible. Still, there are these accusations of corruption….."

"Against you?" said Jason, unable to believe it.

"Sometimes I think they're right. Not the corruption but the fact that this institution really is antiquated. We have a republic with an unelected monarch. I've democratized the country to a certain extent, but it's not enough. To still have royalty in this day and age, inherited by blood…It would be okay if it were just symbolic, like in England. But I have entirely too many powers. I'm considering stepping down soon. The problem is, half the country supports the present system, and half does not."

"It is…difficult to balance the two sometimes," said Darya, looking sympathetically at her husband.

"A monarchy has many inherent weaknesses. A democracy is much more stable, and much fairer to the people."

"It does seem like a necessary step," said Jason. "Although…if you had a democracy, there's no guarantee the president will be a good one."

"True. But he would only be in power several years, as opposed to a lifetime. Even though I came to power with the people's support, I do not feel like I deserve this position. The time has come to end the monarchy, while there's still someone in power who does not wish to be in power. Although I don't think James would abuse his position when he became king, I don't want to give him this burden either. I plan to present my proposal to Parliament at its next session."

"I am not entirely certain that's a good idea," said Darya. "There are many things we need to accomplish before we can destabilize the country with elections."

"Sometimes a little instability is needed to reform old systems. My rule has been a transition period between communism and democracy. It's provided the necessary stability."

"This is…a particularly sensitive time."

"When isn't it? Besides, it will take several years before elections can take place. I will make the necessary reforms between now and then."

Darya nodded, her brow furrowed. She was beautiful, noble, elegant; red-blond hair cascaded over her shoulder, contrasting with her dark red velvet dress.

Stefan leaned forward, shoved his plate to the side. "Uncle James, we're not always straightforward with you. We want you to think you have created a utopia, and we're living well and free. But there's a point where…it's too much to bear."

Alarm spread across the king's face. "What is it?"

"The countryside is in trouble. Crime has reached the roads. We were safe at first, but now—the people blame the Romani for their problems. They're afraid of us like they used to be under the tyrant. We've been harassed, abused…That we could bear; we don't want to trouble you with something we can handle. But now—you know our cousin Karima?"

"Yes, she married someone from another kumpania."

"She had two daughters. But they were attacked one night and stolen—we think. We've heard of others attacked and stolen. It's not just because they hate us. They're selling us."

Roderick stood, pushing his chair back with a scrape. His eyes flashed. "How do you know this?"

"We don't know it. Except Aunt Jael thought she saw some Romani girls being bundled up into a van one day. It was in a bad part of Rakima, where there have been lots of disappearances."

"There's already too much trafficking going on in the country, and if they're enslaving Romani—a minority I'm supposed to protect—"

"They're also attacking Turkish people."

"It's not even like you're immigrants. Both minorities have been an integral part of Muldavia since the beginning." His face was flushed with anger. "I'll do everything in my power to help you. It's true, I do get a bit sheltered here in this palace…."

"We did try to keep it from you. No one else comes to the aid of Gypsies." Bitterness seized Stefan's voice.

Darya turned to the king. "You need to be careful how you handle this. Some are already calling you 'Gypsy-lover'."

"Let them."

"It's just that…with the situation as it is, you need to be careful how you present your image."

He flung out one arm toward Luna. "These are our family."

"We'll help them in every way we can. But we should not announce it to the country. That way, we won't tip off the criminals that you're onto their plan."

Roderick nodded, eyes narrowed. He turned to Jason.

"You're here to investigate human trafficking, right?"

"We're searching for the boy of a client of ours."

"That's why you're consulting with Saul and Kris. And Tasha and Gray are chasing the weapons angle of Yavesh."

Jason nodded.

"That's why we need you to stay in power," said Stefan. "No one else would help us like you do. No other ruler would care about us like family."

"Your family saved me when no one else would. I will not abandon you. But I cannot stay in power forever. You must trust the people—"

"Trust the people who are attacking us?" Stefan stood. "If you abandon us, perhaps we should just take care of ourselves like we always have." He strode out of the room, the door slamming behind him.

Luna giggled nervously into the silence. She looked at Jason. "Family gets into arguments sometimes."

"Especially me and Stefan," said Roderick. "This time, he's has a point. I cannot abandon him." He looked at Darya, who seemed a little shaken beneath her composure. "Perhaps I should postpone the vote. At least until this crisis is over. The last thing we want is chaos. If order is breaking down even in the countryside, where it's usually peaceful…." He looked down at his empty glass pensively. Then he stood. "Excuse me." He bowed swiftly, then strode from the room.

"Thank you for joining us," said Darya. "Excuse me." She followed her husband, leaving just Luna, who fiddled with her fork then stood.

"I've gotta go call my mom. I'll see you later!" She skipped out the door, her green dress flying.

Connie looked at Jason. "I'm…not really sure what to think."

"When I was shot, Stefan's grandparents took care of me. I might not have been brought up in their camp like Roderick, but I do feel like I owe them. While we're looking for Ben….we might find evidence about the ones who were kidnapped. Just as long as I don't get in the direct sights of Yavesh."

"I don't want you to get hurt. They…tortured that agent that Kris told us about. It was too much like my dream."

"Don't worry. I'm not going to run headlong into danger like I used to. Most of all, I don't want to put you in danger." He caressed her hand softly with his. She pressed her hand to his cheek, kissed him. Kept on kissing him—He pulled away reluctantly.

"Let's go back to our room," he said, breathless, and her hand snugly in his, she followed him back down the hallway to their luxurious suite.


	18. Dance

Here is a very long chapter to make up for how long it's been. :) If anyone's still reading this story.

I hope this chapter's ok. I may fix it. Hopefully I can get more of this story done this summer...and perhaps something will actually happen in it. It's getting pretty long. Maybe I should just rush to the end...or just be ok with the fact this is a long story. I wish I had more time to write fanfic...I don't want to abandon this story. Especially since I have some cool/interesting things that will happen at the end. The middle's always the thing...

* * *

Rain pattered softly onto Jason's umbrella, which he shared with Connie. She huddled snugly against him. All around them, people were jumbled in a vast mass on the cobblestone plaza. A red brick building with ornate white trim stood in front of them. On either side its large central balcony stood two soldiers; the center of the balcony was empty.

A strong feeling of déjà vu hit Jason. Along with an echo of apprehension. Last time he was here, he'd been undercover, listening to the speech of the communist premier, Karl von Warberg. And then a soldier had started beating a man for holding his umbrella for his wife—a sign of disrespect to the premier—and Jason had gone to rescue the man. He'd beaten the soldier to the ground, felt a rush of exultation—and then realization slammed into him of what he'd done. Made it impossible to finish their mission—and maybe not even get out of the country alive.

Somehow, his impetuous actions had not ended in their deaths—and miraculously, events had worked together to bring about the downfall of the communists and the rule of the king. But not before the king was nearly executed, in this very square….He could almost hear the surge of the crowds as they attacked the soldiers who'd oppressed them for decades. The bloody, glorious clash of revolution. Despite the insistence of others, it had happened in spite of him, not because of him.

Elena had said that his actions had given the people hope. But that had all been an act. She had been working for Zahl all along….He fought the memory of her lips on his. How had he ever fallen for her? What a foolish boy he'd been…..

Tasha stood on his right, Gray beside her. Somehow she'd coaxed him out to this vast crowd. Admiration stirred in Jason—he knew in a small way what effort it took to face your fears. And with the pain Gray was going through, it would take a lot of strength to simply be here.

Gray's jaw was taut, his face pale under the umbrella. His blond hair was sticking up in spikes and he wore an immaculate charcoal suit. He almost looked like the old Gray, and a chill ran through Jason. But his very posture was tense, his fists clenched against his sides as he looked straight forward, as if trying to avoid seeing anything close to him.

A man walked onto the balcony. The king. He wore a black suit with a red sash across it. Behind him stood Darya, resplendent in a silver gown. A muted roar swept through the crowd, interspersed with cheers. People from the media began snapping pictures, leaning against the iron fence; security guards in dark sunglasses stepped closer warningly.

The king's voice boomed out over the square. He spoke of the accomplishments of the last seventeen years. Of his own journey to become king, hiding with the Romani, and in the cabin in the Czech mountains, and then coming back to share the fate of his people.

"When I stood on that scaffold, I told you that even though I would die, you should not give up hope. It was not me—it was you who started the revolution. It would not have happened if you hadn't acted against your oppressors. As long as we let the flame of freedom burn in our hearts, as long as we don't forget the lessons of history, we will forge forward into an even greater future.

"As I pledged on the day of my coronation, I will always serve you, and protect that future with all that is within me."

A swell of applause and cheers burst around them. The king spoke and they quieted again. "At midnight, Muldavia will officially be one hundred years old. If it is God's will, we will celebrate another centennial in a hundred years. As long as we remain a nation of freedom and of justice."

The crowd cheered, tossed confetti in the air. Hats flew high and disappeared in the crush of the crowd.

The rain had lightened and Jason collapsed his umbrella. Connie's hand snuck into his. They made their way through the mass of people; they could hardly help but bump into someone. Jason looked back to make sure Tasha was coming and saw Gray's face, white and drawn, his eyes shot through with fear and pain.

They reached the front gate. Security men blocked them, hands near their guns.

"We have an invitation," said Jason, his voice drowned out by the roar of the crowd. He carefully reached into his shirt and drew out a piece of paper with the king's signature on it. A guard inspected it with a frown and then nodded. He unlocked the gate and let them in, then shut it swiftly before a member of the paparazzi could dart inside.

Escorted by some guards, they walked into a large hall with a red marble floor and eighteenth-century portraits on the walls. Then they went through a labyrinth of narrow corridors until they reached a large room with long rectangle tables decorated with Muldavian flags and abundant bouquets.

"This is beautiful," said Connie softly.

"The one in the US was just a pale imitation. This is the real thing."

"It's nice to have another reason to wear my dress!"

"You look stunning." He kissed her cheek, remembering the banquet in DC, how he'd longed to be closer to her, close the gap, repair their love….

"You look amazing yourself." She kissed him lightly on the lips.

The guards ushered them to the table at the front of the room, where a few people had gathered already. They sat down next to their nameplates, Connie on his right, Gray on his left and Tasha beside him.

"Are you all right?" Jason asked. Gray's face was ashen.

"Yes. It is…better now, out of the crowd." He looked at Tasha. "Without you, I could not have done it."

"It's part of my job to get you back into peak operating condition."

"I will fight to become an agent if it's the last thing I do."

"It will take time, but you have it in you to overcome this."

"I'll be praying for you, Gray," said Jason.

"Me too," said Connie.

Gray looked taken aback; he nodded but did not reply.

A woman with short red hair strode up to the table.

"If it's not Jason Whittaker!" she said, leaning across the table with proffered hand, which Jason took.

For a moment, Jason couldn't place her. Then an image sparked in his memory. "Dana?"

"Yes! I'm flattered you remembered."

"Well, you're hard to forget."

She laughed and sat down next to Leila. "So what have you been doing with yourself since last time? Saving any more countries?"

Heat rose to Jason's cheeks. "No…well, I never did much to save this one."

"Nonsense! You were instrumental in bringing the prince back, saving him from Zahl."

"After almost getting him killed."

She waved one hand. "All's well that ends well. And who's this? You're beautiful bride?"

"Yes. This is Connie. How'd you know?"

She shrugged. "I'm a reporter; discovering the truth is what I do." She held out her hand to Connie, who took it. "It's nice to meet you, Connie. I'm Dana."

"It's nice to meet you!"

"So how long have you been married? Any kids?"

"Not yet," said Jason, stiffening, hoping to avoid any more questions about children. "We've been married—oh, four months."

Surprise crossed her face. "I would have guessed at least a few years. Though you do have this honeymoon glow about you…."

"We were friends for years before we got married," said Connie.

"Ah, the best kind of relationship. Like my second marriage."

"Where's your husband now?" asked Jason.

"He has to work tonight."

"During the Centennial?"

"He's a security guard. We met on a story—never looked back. It's been five years. So—you were never married before this?"

"I took my time."

"To find the right one, I see." She smiled. "Well, congratulations."

"Thank you," said Connie. She slid her hand into Jason's, lacing her fingers with his.

A group of people spilled into the room and filled the remaining seats at the table. Stefan, Luna, a beautiful girl in a red dress, a man who looked vaguely familiar, a woman with gray streaking her long dark hair—Jason had seen her before. "Marija?"

"Jason!"

Marija embraced him, then she introduced her husband, Stefan Sr., whom Jason had met just once after he'd had gotten out of prison. He looked much better now, hearty and strong rather than thin and frail. She also introduced Zara, the young woman in red, who curtseyed and gave a bright smile. "Maybe we can dance this time," she said, her eyes twinkling. He remembered her as a little five-year-old girl, twirling around the fire….

Sofia and Nikola, Marija's parents, came over and gave Jason a hug. They had saved his life when he'd been shot, and brought him to their camp to heal. Jason introduced Connie and they all welcomed her as if she were part of their extended family.

Then the Muldavian national anthem played and everyone stood. Many sang the words, which Jason didn't know, so he just laid his hand on his heart, pondering the sacrifices of the past that suddenly seemed so vivid, as if he'd leaped in time from the revolution to the centennial. The contrast made his heart skip a beat. He drew Connie close; she pressed her cheek to his.

Then the king and queen entered and the crowd hushed. Behind them walked the prince, James, in a dark suit that matched his father's. The king took his place at one head of the table, the queen on the other, while James sat beside Tasha.

The king welcomed everyone and led them in prayer. Then waiters brought in hors d'oeuvres on tiered crystal plates. Connie lifted a crepe shaped like a flower, turned it carefully around. "This looks too pretty to eat!"

She ate it slowly, as if savoring every bite. "It's really good." She snatched up another. "Oh—I don't want to eat all of them."

"That's okay," said Dana. "There's more where those came from."

"Anything you want, just ask!" said the prince. "You're our guests of honor. Without some of you, Muldavia wouldn't exist."

Jason wished he could set the record straight—they all thought he was some kind of hero. He knew he'd never be able to live up to the pedestal they'd put him on. It was false—a mirage. Even many years later, he hadn't become a great agent. He'd failed miserably, many times.

"I'm no hero," he said quietly, almost to himself.

"It's true, you did do some pretty foolhardy things," said Dana.

"That's an understatement."

"You were young, inexperienced. Of course you made mistakes. But you cannot downplay what we all saw, at the end. It took an outsider to show us that we could resist. And the most Muldavian of us all." She lifted her glass toward the king.

"But I too was an outsider," said the king. "I abandoned you."

"It's what you had to do. To save yourself. So you could come back and save us all. In the end, it doesn't matter what mistakes we made along the way. It's the result that matters. A hero is an ideal, a figurehead, something that doesn't really exist but which we strive for. It's the best that's in us, that overcomes what's worst in us."

"Well said," said the king, who raised a glass. "To heroes."

Jason raised his glass, which was filled with wine, and clinked it against Connie's. He took a sip; it was heavy and tangy.

"Well, I guess a little wouldn't hurt," said Connie, and she sipped some of the wine, reddening her lips. Longing sprang up inside him to kiss those lips. He had to look away for a moment or he might forget himself and kiss her right there.

"What do you think?" said Saul. "It's one of our best wines, called Lessanne."

"Delicious," said Jason.

"It's grown not far from here," said Leila. "Near where we live. If you'd like to come out to our place for a day or two, you're welcome."

"We're not exactly here on vacation."

"Of course not. But we are also investigating Yavesh, so it could be a working vacation. And you could meet our kids. They're sitting at another table with our relatives; maybe we can introduce you later."

"I'd like to meet them," said Connie. "You have five, right?"

"Gina, Tessa, Mark, Lukas, and Katrina," said Saul.

"Katrina!"

"That's our youngest," said Leila. "Is something wrong with the name?"

Connie laughed. "No! It's just that Katrina's the name of one of my good friends."

"Good namesake, then. She's our little ray of light. Our surprise baby."

"She's the sweetest little thing!" said Zara. "I want a whole bunch of kids l after I graduate."

"You need to get married first," said Marija.

"Of course, Mama." She lowered her eyes. "That's what I meant."

"Any good prospects in college?" said Nikola.

"Not yet, Grandpapa."

"Then what are we sending you to college for?"

"Nikola!" said Sofia, giving him a playful nudge.

"To be a teacher," said Zara.

"And leave the kumpania, I suppose." Nikola sighed.

"I could teach our kids."

"Times are changing," said Sofia. "The opportunities for smart young women are in the city, not traveling about the countryside. We'll miss you, but you will always be a part of us, and we'll come visit you when you have a family of your own."

"I will see if I can settle down with a nice Romani man. There are not many at the university, though."

"Well, just do your best and come back to us if you can," said Nikola.

"Are you planning to leave us too?" asked Marija, looking at Luna.

She looked up from her salad. "I don't know, Mama. I don't want to leave. But I do want to learn, like Stefan and Zara."

"You're already away from us so much."

"There's so much I want to see. And I need to see Uncle James sometimes too." She looked at the king. Then her eyes strayed to the prince. He gave her a bright smile; she flashed a smile back at him and then looked down at her plate.

The main course arrived—steak and potatoes. Jason cut into the steak and lifted it to his mouth. It was tangy and tender.

He looked at Tasha. "We certainly eat better this time around."

She nodded. "When we were on the run, we had to take what we could get."

"Times have changed," said Dana. "We are a more prosperous country now than we ever were under communism. Not to say we don't still have kinks to work out."

"It's your job to keep us accountable," said the king. "Especially since we don't yet have a true democracy. Something I plan to rectify. It's unconscionable that I have been so complacent as to wait so long to create one. We need full, free and fair elections within the next few months."

A murmur rippled across the table, and some of it spread to the crowd below. People looked at each other, whispered excitedly, apprehensively.

"It's a credit to your rule that we have been satisfied as a people," said Dana. "We trust you to make the right decisions for us."

"But that's the problem with absolute rule. The communists were right about that part—they just went too far the other way. When the power is in the hands of one person, the country has to rely on the benevolence of that monarch. There are no checks and balances. A constitution is the foundation of a country; without it, we could easily fall prey to a demagogue or a revolution. Even I could go the wrong way and abuse power."

"This may not be the right time, your Majesty," said a man next to him. "There is unrest in the provinces. We need a strong hand. Later, we can craft this constitution, when things have settled down."

Roderick waved one hand. "There is never a perfect time for a transition. But it must be done. We will make it as smooth as possible. I will not step down until a legitimate candidate has taken my place and transfer of power is guaranteed peacefully. Our country must enter the modern age. It's only because we're so small that we've escaped scrutiny from the rest of the world about democratic progress."

"And because of your impeccable record," said Dana. "There are no human rights abuses here. The people are happy and prosperous. It's true, few monarchs would be able to resist the temptation for corruption."

"It is only by the grace of God I have kept on the right path."

"Ironically, there are those who take issue with your faith. We're still quite a religious country, but there are more atheists and agnostics than there once were. We're becoming more diverse, and that brings the clashes of culture and race that we've been seeing lately."

"Elections may settle things down. Or they may bring to light just how divided the people are."

"We are not divided," said the man who had spoken before. He had steel gray hair and glasses. "We are happy and prosperous, as you said."

"Yes," said Dana. "But with all due respect, you are not among the people every day as I am. I look into their faces, and there is joy, but there's also suspicion and hatred simmering beneath the surface. If we're not careful, it could explode. It could even bring new revolution. Elections may bring us stability; they may fan the flame of conflict. That's just the risk we have to take."

"I see what you do not see as well," said Stefan. He leaned forward, dark curls slipping over his forehead. "I see the hatred against my people. It is getting worse, not better. My own father was hurt when he tried to intervene when gadje were attacking some of us."

"Perhaps, if the Gypsies were more integrated," said the man with the steel-gray hair, "these attacks would not happen."

"You would not allow us to be integrated. Even if we wanted to be. At the university, they stay away from us like we carry a plague." Stefan clenched his fist.

"It is not as bad as all that," said Zara. "I've made lots of friends. Maybe you should try being less adversarial."

"You see the silver lining everywhere. Even after you were attacked."

"It wasn't so bad." She brushed her cheek with her fingers, looked down.

"Two men hurt her. I wasn't there to stop them."

"Zara—I didn't know," said the king.

"We don't want to beg favoritism," said Zara. "I'm fine, really. It was in my sophomore year. The majority of students have been very welcoming."

"That is how most Muldavians are. But there are bad elements too, and it's my job to eliminate them as much as possible and protect our minorities. When I step down, there will be provisions in the constitution that will protect the Turkish, Jewish, and Romani people and give them seats in Parliament." He looked at Stefan, who nodded.

"That will take care of the common criminals," said Dana. "But there is a cancer in our society and it has deep roots, taking advantage of the unrest and the economic hardship of some."

"You're not talking about Yavesh," said a blond woman next to Sofia. "That's a fairytale."

"Most fairytales are dark and violent. But it's real and spreading. If we don't stop it, it will undo all the hard work as a country and consume us."

"You're exaggerating."

"From what I've seen, no, I'm not. There are just enough pieces to connect into a pattern. We have to destroy it before it uproots our society."

"You think it is that intertwined?" asked the king.

"It's roots are deeper than we realize. We have a lot of work to do before we can even scratch the surface. I would almost consider postponing the vote, if I were you; it might take advantage of the country's instability. It might even engineer a coup."

"I wasn't aware it had political ambitions."

"From the pattern I've seen, it wants to take over as much of the country as possible. If it can't take over like a vine rotting a tree from the inside, it will crush the state and take over completely. Like cancer, it will survive at all costs, even death of the host."

"We would appreciate any help you can give us," said Leila. "If we work together, share information, we can accomplish more than we could alone."

Dana nodded. "I'd be happy to share anything I come up with. Though I've scraped up little concrete so far."

"We have a chance to bring down Yavesh if we all work together," said Saul.

"My niece's two girls were stolen by them," said Marija. "Could you help us?"

"Yes, we will. Just give us as much information as you can. That might not only help us find the girls, but bring down Yavesh and save many more children. If you see anything suspicious, report it so we can have as clear a picture as possible. We have to find a weakness of some sort. A way to destroy their foundation. Right now, we're just going after the periphery, not the heart, the brain of it."

"If I have to fight them myself," said the king, "I will."

"Rod," said Darya, "you are not expendable."

"On the contrary, I am…or soon to be…obsolete." He smiled a little wistfully. "If the only way to save my country is to sacrifice myself, I will do it in an instant. It is…only by the grace of God that I did not sacrifice my life seventeen years ago."

"It would have been me that caught that bullet," said Jason, gratefulness rushing through him for what the king had done. He was truly a selfless man, a great leader if there ever was one.

"You saved me; I only had to return the favor. You brought me to life by connecting me to my people."

"Is there anything I can do?" asked the prince.

"It might be good for you to learn more of Muldavian affairs. If you want to, you can look at the reports, see what you can learn. And maybe you can shadow some investigations—as long as they don't go into danger."

"Thank you." He bowed his head, the circlet of a crown around his hair glinting in the light from the chandeliers.

After dessert of strawberry shortcake, an opera singer in a pearlescent silk dress stood on stage and sang a song in Muldavian. Jason lost himself in the beauty of the language, the soaring heights of the music.

"It's beautiful," whispered Connie when it was done. Jason gently brushed away the tear on her cheek. His heart ached to gather her close, but he drew away, leaving disappointment in her eyes.

After the opera singer came a rock group which caused everyone to get up and sway to the pounding of the drums and rhythm of the guitar. Finally there was a scene from a play, and this was in Muldavian too, so it was hard to follow. But it seemed like a version of Romeo and Juliet, only between a wealthy city girl and a poor country boy.

When the scene ended, everyone got up from the tables. Saul and Leila introduced them to their kids, who had black hair and dark eyes like their parents. Leila lifted little Katrina up and kissed her; the little girl laughed and Leila hugged her tight.

Connie turned away, pain in her eyes.

"Connie—" He led her away toward the wall.

"I'm okay. I'm just tired and there's so much going on and—seeing her made me think of what Jeremiah would've been like if….."

"We can go back to the palace."

"I'm okay. I want to dance." They walked to the ball room, a grand room with shimmering chandeliers with pictures of battles swirling across the floor.

He held her close as they danced. She draped her hand over his shoulder, fingers caressing the back of his neck. He gazed into her beautiful green eyes, her face perfectly framed by her cinnamon-brown hair. He kissed the bridge of her nose, unable to help it; she laughed and pressed even closer, then kissed his cheek, close to his ear. Thrills raced through him.

"My Connie," he whispered.

"My Jason." He pressed his lips to hers, savoring a slow soft kiss.

She lifted her hand, brushed his hair back from his brow. "You are more beautiful every time I look at you." She ran her hand down delicately over his scar. He closed his eyes, remembering a flash of pain, wondering how she could see any beauty in him.

"I don't want to do anything but be near you." She closed her eyes, pressed her cheek to his. They swept past the other dancers, like mirages in mist.

After about five dances, Connie said her feet hurt and they sat on a bench along the edge. He wrapped his arm around her waist, while she leaned her head on his shoulder.

Saul and Leila swirled past them, completely absorbed in each other. Dana danced past with her husband, a tall man with brown hair and intense brown eyes. She introduced him. "This is Sam."

"It's good to meet you," he said. "I would like to throw my hat in the ring, if possible. See if I can get a transfer to Internal Security, help fight Yavesh."

"You'd be a good asset to the team," said Jason, not sure what he should say, since he was just here as a freelancer.

"He would, wouldn't he?" said Dana, wrapping her arm around Sam's. She pressed close to him with a laugh, and they swept around the dance floor, blending with the other dancers including Nikola and Sofia, Stefan Senior and Marija, and the king and queen in the center, regal and graceful and perfectly in sync.

Stefan and Zara twirled past, laughing. Luna and Prince James danced slow and close, Luna's cheek against his, her eyes closed, the prince gazing at her with affection in his eyes.

"Do you think they are… together?" said Connie softly.

"I don't know. They look pretty close. I wonder if the king knows."

To Jason's surprise, Gray was on the dance floor with Tasha. He looked awkward and uncomfortable; Tasha draped her arm around his shoulder. He closed his eyes, his head bowed for a moment. Then his body relaxed and his steps moved with the rhythm of the music and he swept Tasha around the dance floor, moving elegantly. His dark suit and her red dress complemented each other, while her dark hair and his blond hair contrasted, as if they'd chosen each other as partners to maximize effect. They danced in symphony, almost as if they anticipated each other's thoughts. The next dance was faster and Jason marveled at their moves. Even the king and queen stopped and admired them, while only a few others remained on the floor. The rest watched the masters at work, while they remained oblivious to anything but each other. Jason had never known Tasha was such a great dancer, and wouldn't have suspected it of Gray, although they were both the kind that strove for excellence in all that they did. The only thing that marred their movements was Gray's slight limp. Otherwise, one would never suspect that he'd been horrifically tortured, or how broken he'd been earlier that day. It was as if he'd shed who he was and something else had emerged—similar to his old supremely confident self.

Connie leaned over as the music tapered off. "You don't think…there's something there, do you? Something between them?"

"I…don't know. I wouldn't think so, but…." For some reason, the thought disturbed him. Not jealousy of course, but even with Gray's reformed attitude, his present harmlessness, it didn't seem right that Tasha would fall for someone like him. She wasn't the kind that could ever care for a murderer….

 _Maybe I haven't forgiven him as much as I thought. There is this part of me that cannot trust him. Not yet._

Gray and Tasha came over and sat down beside them. Sweat sheened their skin.

"That was amazing!" said Connie.

"Thank you," said Tasha breathlessly. "I haven't danced like that in a while."

"You could dance professionally."

"Maybe we'll do that," she said wryly, looking at Gray. "How are you doing?"

"I'm all right," said Gray. "I…didn't think I could do that. Not with all these people. But somehow I was able to forget. Like it was just us two in the room. You're good at knowing just the right thing to say, to do."

"You just have to believe you can do it. Look what you just did." She touched his hand.

People were still stealing glances at them and murmuring. Gray looked away, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "I hope they did not see my limp."

"All they saw was your expertise."

He gave a sheepish smile. "I just…can't help but think they can see it, sense it, somehow. What…happened." He looked sharply at Jason and Connie, as if he thought he'd said too much. Jason had never told him that he knew the worst of what had happened, and didn't know if there'd ever be a right time to tell him.

Connie changed her blue dress for a more practical white one. While Jason waited for her outside the bathroom, he heard soft rustling around the corner. He crept down the hall and slowly turned—

Prince James had his arms around Luna's waist and was kissing her passionately. Luna swept her arms around his neck and kissed him near his ear—he laughed, gathered her lips in his once more—

Jason cleared his throat.

The teenagers whirled around, pink suffusing James' cheeks, Luna's eyes wide. "We were just—um—" James stumbled.

"I can see what you were doing." He strode up to them.

"It kinda just…happened," said Luna. "It's a good thing you showed up, because we…don't want to get too carried away."

"I don't want to keep this a secret, anyway," said the prince. "Now that I know how you feel." He wrapped his hand in hers.

"I love you, James!" She giggled.

"I love you too, Luna. I want everyone to know, especially because there's no law anymore about who I can marry."

"You're getting a little ahead of yourselves, aren't you?" said Jason.

"If I love her, there's no reason to wait."

"Well, speaking as someone who waited too long—maybe you're right. As long as you wait till you're married to…"

"We will!" said Luna.

"I know we're young," said James. "But if Mom and Dad approve…" He pulled Luna down the hall and she followed, her green dress flowing behind her as she laughed.

Connie came around the corner. "What was that all about?"

"Young love." He came up to her, grasped her hand. "It's too bad I waited so long to realize how I felt about you."

"Those years weren't wasted, because we were friends. And now …we get to catch up with all we didn't do." She caressed his face, drawing her fingers down over his jaw to his lips.

"Maybe those two had the right idea…." He turned her hand over, kissed along its edge. She drew in a sharp breath, looked up at him with sparkling eyes. He grasped her shoulders, slowly, gently pushed her against the wall. She leaned back, closed her eyes, her lips slightly parted. He admired her astonishing beauty, totally unworthy before her. She grasped the back of his neck, pulling him closer. He gathered her mouth in his, reveling in her graceful movements.

She slid her hand into his hair, ran her fingers delicately over his neck. Loosening his tie just a bit to slide against his throat. Chills raced through his body, longing for more of her bursting through him.

But he pulled away, settling for entwining his arm around hers and whispering, "You are so beautiful."

"I still can't believe I…kept myself away from you for a month."

"You were in pain. I understand—I felt a lot of it, though I can never know what it's like to …to carry a baby, and lose him." Infinite sorrow rose in his chest.

She nodded, tears sparking in her eyes. He wished he could comfort her. There was only so much he could do; he didn't want to invade her space if it was something she was working out for herself.

They headed up onto the balcony, joining the king and queen, the prince, Sofia and Nikola and their family, and Tasha and Gray.

Jason walked up to the prince. "Have you told him?"

"Well…I didn't think this was the right time…"

"There's never a right time. If you're serious about this girl—"

"I am!"

"Then—"He swept his hand toward the king.

James nodded. He stepped over to his father and mother and spoke to them; Roderick patted James on the back, and Darya hugged him. James beckoned Luna over to them. James gave Jason a thumbs-up sign.

Jason leaned back against the brick wall, Connie beside him. "It's a much different scene that it was seventeen years ago," said Jason.

"Von Warberg stood here on the balcony and gave his speech," said Tasha. "We were down there, pretending to be reporters." She laughed. "I could've done a lot better myself back then. Though I was a bit…distracted."

She gave him a meaningful look.

"Oh. By me, you mean." He felt supremely awkward.

"Don't worry. I don't have that problem anymore." She gave a small smile.

BOOM! Bright fire splashed across the sky. Two more, bright flowers of green and blue, that left puffs of smoke against the dark.

As they watched the fireworks, Jason pulled Connie close, wrapping his arms around her to keep her warm. He had long sleeves while her dress was sleeveless. Men's and women's formal fashions really weren't very fair….Good thing she took those painful looking high heels off and was standing in her bare feet. He almost got distracted from the fireworks, admiring her beautiful feet….

Afterwards, they headed to the palace in the king's limousine. The prince could hardly contain himself, now that he'd declared his love. He kept looking out the window, talking about Luna.

"She has her own family to go back to," said Roderick.

"I want to get her the most beautiful ring…"

"Maybe you should wait a while. Let your relationship grow."

"You can't know if it's the real thing yet," said Darya.

"I do! I love her."

"It's best to have a courtship period," said the king. "Perhaps a year—"

"A year!"

He smiled. "We will see. It's not like you won't see her during that time. You do have to be careful, you know—"

"I know, Dad. I don't want to hurt her."

"Good. I know how passions can get the better of you, though." He looked at Darya, who pursed her lips.

"We almost did," said Darya. "At least there is no law now, against you marrying a commoner or a Gypsy."

They stopped at the palace, shining in the dark. Connie leaned on Jason's arm, carrying her shoes while he carried the bag with her dress in it. "I'm so tired…."

He kissed her temple. "We'll get to bed right away."

She smiled wearily.

The king's cell phone rang and he picked it up as they entered the foyer. "Yes? What is it? No, she didn't come back with us. Yes, James is with us. She's not—Yes, I'll do everything I can. I know. It'll be okay, Marija. I will." He slid the phone back in his pocket.

"What is it?" said James. "Is Luna all right?"

"They don't know where she is. They thought she came back with us but….

"She's disappeared."


	19. Investigation

"What?" said the prince, looking stricken. "How can she be gone?"

"Maybe she got lost in the crowd. I'll send the police, my best agents, right away."

James leaned his head in his hands. "What if it's Yavesh?"

Connie's heart flipped. What if that sweet girl had been kidnapped—bound for a horrible fate….

Darya laid her hand on his shoulder. "It's probably just a mixup. They thought she was going with us, we thought she was going with them. If she's smart, she went back in the building. We might get a call from a security guard any moment."

"Is there anything we can do?" said Tasha.

"Not at the moment," said Roderick. "The police should be able to handle this. But if it's Yavesh…." He closed his eyes, shook his head. "I don't even want to think of it. But we have to consider every possibility. If it is—we'll need your expertise."

Connie's heart sank. _What expertise do I have? I'll just have to support Jason in whatever way I can. And get out of his way if I'm going to mess it up by not knowing what I'm doing…._

Connie followed Jason back to their suite.

They didn't wake up until 9:30 the next morning. In the breakfast room, a table was laden with pastries and coffee and juice and biscuits and eggs and sausage and strawberries. Connie gathered some of each. She sat down beside Jason and devoured a sausage-egg biscuit—salty and delicious. Then she ate one of the pastries, and flakes of it fluttered off onto her shirt but she didn't care, it was wonderful, all the more so because she was practically starving.

Jason pulled the stem off of a strawberry. "Here," he said, and lifted it toward her mouth. She opened her mouth and he dropped it in, his fingers just brushing the edge of her lips. She bit down on the berry, and juice flooded over her tongue.

"Mm…."

She picked up a strawberry from her plate and twisted off the stem. Then she lifted it to his mouth. He bit into it, a little juice reddening his lips.

He lifted into his arms, his hard biceps pressing into her back, and gave her soft, smooth kisses— every second satiated her and made her long for more of him and she gasped as her love for him poured through her, finding expression in every touch—

A throat cleared behind her. Connie sat up to see Tasha and Gray standing in the doorway.

"What have you been doing all this time?" said Tasha.

"Well…" said Jason. "We slept in."

"I can see that. Do you have any sense of propriety?"

"What do you mean?" said Jason, standing.

"Our hosts need our help. We're not here for the luxury tour."

"I….I'm sorry," he said. "I did get carried away with how luxurious this place is. And we're….kind of on another honeymoon." His face flushed beneath his tan.

Tasha's eyes flicked down a moment, and then glanced at Connie before looking at Jason again. "I see," she said. "Perhaps it's better to keep out of the game completely if your head's only half in it."

"No—you're right. I'm sorry. I…do have to start acting professionally. The celebration is over—time to get to work." He took Connie's hand and she stood. "Although…I can't bring myself to regret anything we've shared." He kissed her lightly on the bridge of her nose and a pleasant shiver ran through her. She longed to lean into his touch. But there would be time for that later—although her entire being ached to be as close to him as she could every waking moment.

"Have they found Luna?" Connie said.

"It's beginning to look like she was kidnapped. It's become a criminal investigation—and they want us to cover the Yavesh angle, just in case they're the ones that kidnapped her."

A horrible chill ran through Connie. "Luna—she's so sweet and innocent. She can't—" She shook her head, not wanting to imagine what Yavesh would do to that beautiful young girl, like it might be doing to Ben, the one they were here to rescue…..

"We have to look at all the angles—and get her back as soon as possible."

Jason strode over to the doorway. Gray flinched, pressing back against the corner.

"Sorry," said Jason, and backed away, giving Gray his space.

Gray frowned. "I've got to get over this if I'm going to be of any use."

"It's all a process. It doesn't happen overnight."

"I can't just be okay with how I am, either."

"No—but it will take a while. Give yourself a break sometimes. This will be hard enough without you being your own worst critic. Be okay with not being perfect all the time."

Gray tipped his head. "You're starting to sound like a psychiatrist."

"I've been to one a few times—trying to get over… the worst of it."

Gray looked at him for a moment, then nodded and looked away.

Gray was the reason Jason had had PTSD in the first place. But despite the residual anger that she wasn't sure she'd ever be rid of, she felt more sympathy for Gray than anything. He was struggling. He knew now, more than ever, what Jason had gone through, and even worse.

They followed Tasha out into the hall and into the entryway, where they met Roderick, Darya, and James.

"Thank you for helping us," said Roderick. "I know you have other priorities, but I feel better knowing that Tasha and Jason are on the case."

"Even if they have not kidnapped Luna," said Tasha, "Yavesh is a plague on your society and we'll do all we can to bring it to justice."

"Be careful," said Darya, her face pale and weary, a few strands of blonde hair hanging from her otherwise perfect braids. "They are the most dangerous people in the country." She blinked back tears, and grasped Roderick's arm. "Luna—somewhere out there—" He caressed her cheek, running his hand down to her chin.

"We'll get her back," he said, although his strong voice trembled slightly.

"I'm going," said the prince, stepping forward.

Darya turned to him. "No. We need to keep you safe."

"I can't just stay here and—" He took a deep breath, anguish in his blue eyes.

"If he's just at the security center," said Roderick, "he should be okay."

"He's the prince. He could be a target."

"There's no evidence they've targeted us."

"But if they took Luna…."

"It could've been random. Not everyone thinks of the Romani as part of our family like we do. They've kidnapped many and if she happened to get lost she might've been an easy target. I should've made sure she was protected….."

"There is no evidence that she's been kidnapped by Yavesh," said Tasha.

"But they have been kidnapping Gypsies…" said Darya.

"It's true, we just don't know at this point."

"That's why we cannot let James out of our sight."

Roderick turned to Jason. "Would you mind keeping an eye on him? Make sure he stays in the security center and doesn't go out into the field."

"I will."

"Thank you." He turned to James. "You're not a professional. You're just learning—make sure you don't do anything rash. Others are better equipped to find Luna; don't forget that. You're in a support capacity, not a leader. If the way you're asked to support is to bring the agents coffee, then that's what you'll do. Understand?"

James nodded solemnly.

"Rod…" said Darya, looking worriedly at her son.

"He'll be fine. I trust Jason with my life. Besides, he'll basically be in a fortress. It's safer than the palace."

Darya, looking doubtful, turned to James. "Be careful." She grasped his shoulders. "Don't do anything foolish. Do what Jason and the agents tell you."

"I will, Mama."

She kissed his forehead and he stepped back, his hand sweeping back his brown hair.

"The car will take you to Aleem Center." Roderick gestured to the doors; a black, nondescript car was idling, a driver just visible in the front seat.

"Aleem?" said Jason, alarm in his voice.

"I know. We didn't change the name. But it's been repurposed; it's not the slaughterhouse that it was." A shadow crossed his eyes.

Tasha and Gray headed out to the car. Roderick hugged his son, who then followed Jason and Connie outside. Tasha and Gray were already in the front two seats.

Jason opened the door for Connie and she slid into the middle seat. Jason sat beside her, the prince on the other side behind the driver, who started the car off down the driveway.

"What is Aleem Center?" Connie asked, wanting to know what had made Jason react like that, and at the same time dreading the answer.

"It's the internal security headquarters. Although it was a lot different under Von Warberg…." He looked out the window, his profile gilded by golden light. Sorrow reflected in his eyes, and he didn't seem like he'd say any more. It must be a bad memory, and she didn't want to make him relive it. But then he continued, "Zahl, the security director, showed me and Tasha the cells where they kept the political prisoners. It was…very hard…not to intervene when I saw how they were brainwashing and torturing people. Somehow I didn't blow my cover and we didn't end up as prisoners….but after we were captured, we ended up back there anyway."

"Did they hurt you?"

"Not really. They mostly focused on James—I mean, the king—and Tasha. They were very hard on them both."

"It was the first time I was tortured," said Tasha, matter-of-factly. "Not nearly the worst, though." Her voice became strained, and as she glanced at Gray, they shared a meaningful look. "They hurt the king much worse than me. They wanted to punish him because he was the rightful heir. They also wanted to show a broken, defeated prince. But he didn't give them the satisfaction. He had so much honor and dignity, even as they were torturing and humiliating him. True nobility."

"My father never told me that happened," said James. "He never talks much about the revolution."

"It was probably hard for him to talk about. And his humility would forbid him from flaunting how well he conducted himself. Although it would only improve people's estimation of him."

"There's no question he was the right person for Muldavia, king or not," said Jason. "Although…."

"What?" Connie asked, when he didn't finish the sentence.

"I'll see if Whit will tell you the story sometime. Since you're part of the family now, you have a right to know. But it's his story to tell."

Curiosity burned in her, but she knew better than to try to pry a secret out of Jason.

Connie watched the countryside roll by…the gentle hills, dotted with clusters of trees. Horses and cows grazed in broad green pastures. The prince looked out the window, his face pensive. She wished she could comfort him. He'd lost the love of his life; she knew what that felt like.

It struck her how much he looked like Jason. He could have been a cousin, a nephew—or a son.

A twinge hit her heart. _No. I can't go there. Not yet. Besides, he doesn't look that much like him….the pictures of Jason at 16 are a quite a bit different. For one thing, I have a feeling Jason was always fooling around, not taking things seriously. The prince seems more grounded. And he wanted to get married already…while Jason waited till he was almost forty._

 _Maybe that was a mistake. To wait so long. He should've married someone else—Gloria from college, or Tasha…. Look at how I've hurt him already! No matter how much I try, I'm not ready to have a baby yet. I know how much he wants one, and I'm still making him wait to start a family. He didn't abandon me after I lost Jeremiah like I abandoned him. Another woman would not have been so selfish…And she would have been able to bear a child without harming it. He could've been married long ago and had the family he wanted…._

The car entered the city, driving down the expressway, the suburbs giving way to high rise apartments glittering in the morning sunlight. When they reached the brick buildings at the heart of the city, Connie had a nagging feeling she'd forgotten something. "Did we need to bring something else with us?"

"You have your cell phone, right?"

She nodded, and lifted her purse, digging out the cell phone from the front pocket.

A horrible feeling shot through her. She scrambled through her purse, trying to find the package of pills. Looked in the little pocket it usually was in—but all she found were pens and old candy wrappers and pennies.

"What is it?" he asked. "Did you forget something?"

"I—I don't know. It might be back in our room, but…." Horror clutched her heart. "I don't remember taking it from the hotel in Washington DC."

The car pulled to a stop, but she barely felt it. She dug out old movie tickets and napkins and her checkbook and lipstick and laid them on the seat. The others climbed out, including the driver; the open doors sent a breeze through the car, sending some random papers flying. Jason caught them before they could fall out of the car. "Connie—what is it?"

"The birth control pills. Jason—" She grasped his arm. "The last time I remember taking one was three days ago."

"Maybe we can get some here."

"But they kind of build up and if you don't take one it throws everything off, and you can get pregnant even if you start up again."

"Well, we'll just have to…keep from getting too close." His face fell.

"It might already be too late."

He caught her eyes. "We have needed each other so much after…all that happened, it's not surprising we forgot. I should've reminded you."

"It was up to me to remember. Jason—what if I—" She couldn't finish the sentence.

He sat back and took her hand. The others were speaking together in a group; someone else had joined them. "Connie—would it be so bad? I mean…what if it's God's will that we have a baby now?"

"I want to go to a doctor first. I don't want to hurt another baby. I can't—not again." Panic welled up in her. He gathered her to him and kissed her cheek.

"I know. I know, my love." He stroked her hair back. "Maybe you aren't pregnant. And if you are…we'll get through this. We'll get health checkups—we'll do everything to make sure the baby is born. God will be there for us."

She nodded, and wiped away her tears. "I know." _I_ should _know,_ she thought _. I'm still not over…losing him._

"Are you coming?" said Tasha, leaning down to look into the open door.

"Just a minute."

She nodded and turned to walk inside with Gray and James.

Jason folded his hands around Connie's and prayed that God would heal her, and that if she were pregnant, the baby would be born healthy without any complications. Pain squeezed her heart at each word. But it also gave her a tiny sliver of hope—that maybe everything would turn out okay.

She looked in the mirror in the front seat and wiped away some stray mascara, and then followed Jason into a low gray building, its modern design a little out of place among the ornate brick buildings and cobblestones.

Inside, it was bright and spacious, lit by fluorescent lights. At the front desk, a receptionist with honey blond hair and black-rimmed glasses greeted them and told them to follow the hall to the left. "Your colleagues are in room 2 B," she said, and turned back to her computer.

Connie followed Jason down a long corridor and they stepped through a frosted glass door labeled 2 B.

Inside, Markov sat at a round wooden table, his back to a floor-to-ceiling window. Beside him sat Saul and Leila. Among about ten others she didn't know sat Dana, with her bright auburn hair. Tasha, Gray and James sat near some empty chairs close to the door. Connie slid in beside Jason, hoping not to be too conspicuous, because she didn't feel like she belonged with all these agents. _What am I doing here?_ she wondered. _Because I can't stand to be apart from Jason_.

"Thank you for joining us," said Markov. "We were just discussing the purpose of this group. For instance, it can be beneficial to have an outsider's perspective, especially on a complex issue like this. However, efficiency is also important, and extraneous elements will only hinder our mission." His piercing eyes roved to Connie, and she felt like shrinking into the floor. _He knows I don't belong here. Maybe I should just run out the door…_ But she was rooted in place.

"I have gathered experts in their fields, who will work on their areas of expertise and then report back to me. We will meet periodically and collaborate when necessary. Most of those here are leaders in their own divisions and will direct field agents to carry out their orders. Some are consultants, who will be working on a freelance basis and may conduct field missions of their own, but their non-traditional points of view will keep us from getting too insular." He looked at Dana. "I was hesitant to include a reporter; however, Dana has convinced me that she knows the streets of Rakima, and she has informants with crucial sources. As a veteran reporter, she has investigation skills akin to those of a junior agent."

Dana smiled wryly and inclined her head.

"As deputy director, I will decide who is valuable to the team and who is not. Some of you are not officially part of this group, and will mostly work on your own, although we may periodically ask you to supply intelligence."

"That would be us," said Jason.

"You are here for your own ends, and you are not beholden to us. However, as long as you work with us, you will conduct yourselves professionally and according to our parameters."

"Of course."

"This includes not bringing amateurs along on a mission where the slightest mistake could mean death."

"Kris—" said Dana.

Markov shot her down with his eyes. "I owe the king the deepest respect. But this is my domain. To arbitrarily send a young prince to assist in any capacity shows either a shocking naivety or a regrettable disregard for my position and service."

James cleared his throat. "I am sorry if you have misunderstood. I do not want to become an agent. I just want to do something to help find Luna."

Sympathy sparked in Markov's dark hazel eyes. "I know. You have lost someone you love. You cannot sit by and do nothing. But that's precisely what you must do. You have to let the professionals do their jobs, because interfering will make it harder for us to recover her."

James shrank in his chair a little. "My father said to respect you and do as you say. He said that if you order me to give you coffee, I have to do that."

Laughter rippled around the room.

"If you wish to demean yourself with such menial tasks. Otherwise, you would be better served to return to the palace."

"That's just it. I…don't want to be stuck in the palace, separate from the people. I don't want to become an agent… but I want to learn how this country's institutions work."

Markov nodded. "That's very commendable. And I would let you if circumstances were different. However, the situation with Yavesh has reached a crisis. We cannot afford to waste time or resources on anything that will hinder us from our ultimate goal—destroying this criminal organization so it can never rise from its ashes."

The agents around the room nodded in agreement.

"Isn't there any place where he could serve in a support capacity?" said Jason. "A task that requires minimal skills?"

"All of our resources must be focused on a single goal. I am not about to risk one shred of my resources just to train a non-professional for a redundant role. Perhaps another agency would be more lenient." He glanced at Saul and Leila. "But I am in charge of the investigation against Yavesh, and I will decide what is needed and what is not."

Connie's heart sank. She wanted to help—but Markov had not even deigned to address her, as he had the prince. She was the very definition of amateur. She whispered to Jason, "Maybe I'd better just leave."

"No. Don't let him intimidate you." He turned to Markov. "They can stay for this meeting, at least?"

Markov inclined his head. Then he lifted some manila folders onto the table and opened them. "Let's get started."

They discussed what the best angle of attack was, and whether Yavesh had any weaknesses to exploit. They admitted they didn't even know if it had weaknesses. A lot of it went over Connie's head and she felt herself zoning out as they delved into more of the details.

 _I'm not meant for this. I'm fooling myself if I think I'll be able to help find Ben and Luna. I just wish I could do something….I can't stand the thought of those kids sold, hurt…._

After the meeting, most of the agents left while a few stood speaking in a small group. Markov approached Connie and Jason. Connie instinctively stepped back, but Markov focused on Jason. "Now, I want to know how closely you wish to work with us. I can give you an assignment, but you'd have to adhere more closely to our rules, although as freelance agents you'll retain more leeway. I can also give you resources and you can conduct your own investigation and then report back to me if you find anything of interest. If you're on your own, you'll be able to choose your own colleagues and will be free to make your own mistakes."

Jason gave Connie a meaningful look. "I think I'll take my chances."

"And you?" He looked at Tasha and Gray.

She and Gray exchanged glances and then Tasha said, "I think we'll work on our own as well."

"I do have a mission that might suit freelancers. They would have no official ties with our agency, and thus would have a harder time getting caught. I would like to have someone to masquerade as buyer, perhaps an entire fake criminal cell. Would any of you be interested in something like this?"

Connie automatically shook her head, and Jason took her hand as if to reassure her.

Gray stood, his jaw set, his eyes determined. "I am."

Tasha turned to him. "Are you sure?"

He narrowed his eyes. "I have experience inside criminal organizations."

"If your cell performs well, you may just be able to impress the higher-ups enough for them to let you in. I can't lie, it'll be dangerous."

"I'm not going to run from danger."

"Good. Tasha, will you be accompanying him?"

"I will go wherever he goes."

"You'll need substantial resources to pull this off, and I'll offer my support; it's the best chance we have of truly finding out what lies inside Yavesh. I'll give you what you need to start out, Jason, and then I'll work personally with you both to set this up." He looked at Gray and Tasha.

He turned to the prince. "Will you be returning to the palace?"

James nodded.

"That would be best. Don't worry, we'll do our best to find Luna. But your best hope is for Luna to be not kidnapped by Yavesh in the first place."

James looked horrified. Connie's heart went out to him.

"I'll go back too," she said.

"You don't have to do that," said Jason.

"I'll only be in the way."

"Connie—" He squeezed her hand. "You're never, ever in the way."

"I wouldn't know what I'm doing."

"It helps me for you to just be with me. As long as you're not in danger—and I'm not planning to go anywhere dangerous—you might as well tag along. You too, James, if you want."

"Really?" His face lit up.

"Yeah. I'm freelancing, so I can choose whoever I want. Your father did tell me to look out for you."

Jason looked at Markov. "Would it be okay if they stay, just for the day?"

Markov nodded. "I suppose. They can always wait in the lobby; the receptionist has coffee and cookies there. Now, let's get started."

Jason's phone rang. He snatched it from his pocket.

"Hello? Oh, hi, Sierra. Have you found out anything—? Really? That's wonderful!"

"Did they find Ai?" Connie asked, her heart pounding.

Jason shook his head. "But she finally has a lead! She's found a witness who was at Ai and Jerry's wedding."


	20. Providence

"What does the witness know?" asked Connie.

"Sierra didn't tell me yet."

Markov looked at him disapprovingly as he led Tasha and Gray further down the hallway.

"Have you talked to the witness?" he asked Sierra, leaning against the wall.

"Of course. I wouldn't have called if I didn't have any information of value. But I'd better tell you up front—it's not good news."

Jason's heart fell. "Is—she still alive?"

"I'm sorry, Jason." Sympathy filled her voice. "From what I can piece together, she tried to get out before Saigon fell. But the government captured her as a spy and she was executed."

Horror filled him. Jerry's wife—gone….killed amid terror and torture… He forced out the words, his voice shaken. "It's….the worst thing that could've happened. But thank you for finding this out for me."

"No problem."

"How is your main investigation going?"

"I've hit a dead end for the moment, except there might be some clues on the dark web….But Jason—that's not the end of the story."

"What do you mean?"

"For one thing, Ai's sister is still alive. That's who the witness is. You might want to meet her family, learn more about her."

Jason's heart ached. "Maybe I would," he managed.

"And—there is some possible good news. Ai had a son."

His heart leaped. He had barely considered the possibility, considering how little time they were married. "Really?"

"Ai's sister, Yen, raised him after she died. She tried to give him all the attention she could, but she had five children of her own, and he ran away when he was eleven. She hasn't heard from him since."

"So that's another dead end then."

"Not necessarily. She heard rumors he had joined the communist party, and it turned out to be true. He was a low-level official in government for years until there was an internal feud and he was forced out. He had to flee to another country—it looks like he went to the Philippines. That's where I'm going to check next."

"So he could be in the Philippines."

"This happened only a few years ago, so unless the communists got to him in another country, or he contracted an illness or something, it's likely he's still alive. Oh—and get this. He had a wife—she left him—and a daughter, who it appears he took with him. The wife's name is—well, never mind her. Ai's son is Lam Minh Tam and his daughter is Lam Hue Mai. It took some finding because Tam changed his name—he had been named after his father, Jerry, with Tam as his middle name."

"I have a nephew..." He could hardly comprehend it.

"I'll do all I can to find him and his daughter."

"Thank you, Sierra."

"Don't mention it. I'll call you when I have more info."

As they followed Markov down the hall, he told Connie what Sierra had told him. Tears came to her eyes when he told her that Ai had been killed. Anger flashed across her face when he told her that Tam had joined the communist party. It hit him, then, the implications of the information he hadn't totally processed yet. Ai's son had betrayed everything she and Jerry had died for. How could he do such a thing? Especially when it seemed he had abandoned Ai's sister, who had raised him. There was probably much more to the story. But he couldn't help but share Connie's anger at his nephew, and wonder if, when Sierra found him, he would ever want to connect with the family he had never known, the family of a father he'd rejected.

Markov led them to the elevator at the end of the hall and they ascended to the second floor, where he opened a door to his office. They all filed into a spacious room with a large antique desk.

"Jason, I'll give you the resources you need to start and then you can go off on your own. Some angles will be more difficult with non-professionals involved." He gave Jason a meaningful look, and then turned to his computer. "There are not many options, as we barely know anything about Yavesh to begin with. You could examine financial records of possible suspects. You could collaborate with the police on human trafficking investigations. You could work with at-risk kids to see if they've seen anything suspicious, families of children who have been taken, and victims of human trafficking who have been rescued to see if they can give us any leads."

"We'll work on all of those angles, if we can."

"I'll send you our unclassified files. The case with our agent who was killed is still open, and we'll take any leads we can get, so if you want to look into that as well…."

"Sure."

"Just so you know, we have been threatened not to investigate by anonymous messages that appeared on our supposedly unhackable computers. With Yavesh, there is no such thing as being out of the danger zone. If you're not willing to take a certain amount of risk, it's better if you just pack up and leave right now."

Jason looked at Connie. Fear sprang up in her eyes.

"Everything has some amount of risk to it," said Jason. "Just because I'm not willing to go past a certain point doesn't mean I'm not willing to risk anything at all. I may be afraid, but not so much that I would shield myself from danger. Not anymore. But I cannot leave Connie alone."

Markov looked at him, his eyes narrowed, for a moment. Then he nodded. "I understand. You have a family. That is why it's easier in this business to be unattached. The agent that we lost left behind a widow and a son. It's had a deep effect on our organization as well. Our agents are family. It's hard to approach this professionally, but we'll be less likely to succeed if we give in to emotionalism. Although it can be a strong motivation if channeled correctly…." He sighed. "I might as well show you. You need to know the full extent of what you're up against, so you don't make the same mistakes." He motioned them forward, and Jason, Connie, Tasha, Gray, and James gathered around the computer.

When Markov clicked on a file, a picture appeared of an official-looking photo, a man in a suit against a generic blue backdrop. The man had wavy brown hair and green eyes with a hint of mischief and a wry, brilliant smile. He looked like he could take on the world, and have a good time doing it.

Markov clicked to another picture. Shock shot through Jason. It was a picture of something vaguely recognizable as a face—eyes swollen shut, massive blue bruises spreading over the cheek and jaw, a large cut across one cheek, and the angry welts of several burns on the skin.

"Is it—?" Jason asked.

"Yes, it's the same man. Agent Beck." Markov's eyes were haunted. He clicked to the next picture.

A naked body lay in an ally, crumpled next to some refuse. Jason wanted to turn away, but Markov would probably see that as a weakness. The body was covered in cuts and bruises, and several of the fingers were missing. One arm was bent completely backwards. Burns crisscrossed his skin. Jason had never seen such extensive torture.

"I get the picture, Markov."

The deputy director nodded grimly and exited the file.

Connie had turned to the window, her face pale. James stood, transfixed, as if in shock. Gray was sitting on a chair in the corner, his head in his hands, Tasha kneeling next to him.

Jason crept over to them, Connie beside him. "Is he all right?" Jason asked softly.

"I—don't know," said Tasha. She stroked his hair back. His breathing began to slow a little. "The pictures hit too close to home, I think."

Markov strode over to them. "What's wrong with him?"

"It was a little much for him to take," Tasha answered.

"If he can't take a few pictures—how can he possibly go on a mission? I mean, they are hard to look at, but they should not be enough to incapacitate you. Yavesh would see through him right away, and you would end up just like Agent Beck. Perhaps I should not give you any of my information—I don't want to be responsible for your deaths."

"He's just…recovering. He can do this."

"What's he recovering from?"

"Torture."

"Is that why he has these injuries?" Markov gestured to the bandage on Gray's arm, and he flinched.

Tasha nodded.

"Why is he being sent out into the field so soon? He's obviously not fit for it."

"It was the Agency's orders."

"And here I thought the NSA was a professional organization."

Gray sat up slowly, his jaw set, his eyes afire. "I need to do this."

"You can work on the sidelines. There is no shame in that, especially with the condition you're in."

Gray stood, facing Markov, trembling, fists clenched. "Give me this chance. I will be the agent you need me to be."

Markov tipped his head. "I admire your determination. But sometimes, not even an iron will can force your body and mind into the right shape. You have been through a harrowing ordeal. Give yourself a chance to recover. Then you can prove yourself."

Desperation showed in Gray's eyes. Jason knew the motivation behind it—which he could not tell to Markov. If Gray did not perform the missions the Agency gave him, they'd give him back to Vivian to wreak her perpetual revenge.

"This _is_ part of my recovery. I need to be who I was."

Markov nodded. "I can understand that. How about this. I give you a more straightforward, less dangerous mission, and if you can perform that, I'll let you go undercover."

Gray considered for a moment. Then he gave a quick nod.

"Tasha?"

"I think it's a good idea to not jump right into the deep end. I am responsible for him, after all."

"I'll see what I can find for you." He looked at Jason. "I've sent you the files you need, so you can begin your investigation."

"Thank you," said Jason. "We'll get out of your hair."

Markov gave him an absent nod and turned back to his computer.

"Let's go, James."

James, looking a bit dazed, rushed over from the wall to the door.

"See you at the palace later," said Tasha. "We'll probably stay there until we go undercover."

Jason looked at Gray. "You can do this."

Gray nodded, a determined look in his eyes, though still desperate and wounded. Jason hoped he'd be able to pull himself together enough to do this mission. Because it would be fatal if he couldn't—either way. He would not be able to survive going back to the secret detention center to face more abuse. Not after all he'd experienced, and how much effort it was taking to recover.

They headed back to the palace, and Jason spent most of the afternoon at his computer going over the material Markov had sent. James was with him most of the time, sitting beside him, sometimes leaning over his shoulder to look excitedly at the information. Not only for Luna's sake, although that was a driving factor, but because he seemed to enjoy it.

Connie, on the other hand, stayed with them for a little while then she said, "I'm not going to do you any good—I don't have a clue what I'm doing," and left to explore the palace. Jason was fine with that; he didn't want her to do anything she was uncomfortable with. She wasn't the kind of person who would ever want to be a secret agent. He wanted to make her happy too, though, and not drag her all over the place for his own sake. She did want to find Ben and Luna—but after this mission, he'd ask her what she wanted to do.

He found Connie talking with Darya in a large living room, the golden walls lined with paintings. Darya wore an elegant white dress, while Connie wore a green shirt and jeans. Connie looked just as ravishing as the queen.

"Connie has been illuminating me about your life in Odyssey," said Darya, rising from her chair. "It sounds like an idyllic town."

"It has its moments," said Jason. "You have quite the idyllic country yourself."

She inclined her head. "It is not without its problems, as you are discovering. But there is great beauty here, and the people are good and honest. It is only a small criminal element which is trying to spoil it."

"It would be a shame if the communists were deposed just for criminals to take over. I doubt you will let this happen. But it has been a common theme since the fall of the Iron Curtain—countries either descend into chaos or a dictatorship takes over."

"We have tried to strike a balance. Perhaps we have been too lenient, and allowed the criminal element to grow….but Roderick is right. We need to step aside; we have guided our country long enough. However, I hate to leave it to the people when Yavesh is still a growing force. It is the single biggest threat to peace and stability this country has, so we should wait until it is defeated to have elections. I'm not sure Roderick agrees with me, but I don't think we should leave such a significant threat to the people. It arose during our regime, after all, and perhaps we are partially responsible for its rise…."

"I doubt that."

"We're a small country, Jason. There is only so much we can do without resorting to authoritarian measures….and we may have to get a bit tougher on crime in order to eradicate this disease. Although there are methods I would employ that the king would avoid. Now that Luna has been kidnapped, perhaps he will be more receptive to them." She turned, the hem of her gown sweeping along the carpet. "Come. I believe it's time for dinner."

Jason took Connie's arm in his, and they followed Darya to the dining room. James was already sitting at the table with his father.

Roderick turned to Jason after he sat down. "It sounds like you've found some interesting avenues to your investigation."

"Markov wasn't kidding when he said he had information for us," said Jason. "And this isn't even the classified files. But we're going to have to start somewhere. I can't just sit around and look at information without acting on it."

"What angle do you think you'll work on first?" said Darya.

"I'd like to talk to some suspects. And of course I would like to work with the police on Luna's disappearance, to see if there are any connections. I'd also like to interview victims and families of victims, like Marija's cousins. Working several angles at once will help me find commonalities between them."

"That sounds like a good strategy—as long as you keep your focus."

"I've gotten better at that over the years. At focus, I mean." He smiled. "I also want to see if I can work with Saul and Leila, get the international angle."

Several servants came in with a salad and they began to eat.

Something struck him. "Where are Gray and Tasha?"

"They are not back yet," said Roderick. "Markov must've given them quite the project."

"I wonder what it is…." Curiosity bit into him. He wished he were able to work more closely with Gray and Tasha, but they had a directive from the NSA and he was a freelancer…best to keep a distance.

"Can I go with Jason on his investigations?" asked James.

"It's probably best if you confine your search to the computer," said Roderick.

"But I can learn a lot more on the ground!"

"I see." Roderick looked at Jason. "I don't want you to get in Jason's way, though. And I don't want you to go into danger."

"He's not in my way," said Jason. "And I'm not planning to go into danger. I'm fine with him coming with me."

"We'll discuss it later," said the king, looking at James, who looked disappointed.

After supper, Jason went back with Connie to their room and called his father.

"Hi, Dad."

"Jason! I was just thinking about checking in. The last thing I knew, you'd texted that you were headed to Muldavia."

"We're there now. We went to the centennial yesterday and today I just started my investigation."

"Are you and Connie all right?"

"We're fine. I'm not planning to run headlong into danger, although it might be harder to avoid danger than I thought. Yavesh—the organization that perpetrates most of the human trafficking in this country—is professional and lethal. They've got deep roots in Muldavia, though we have no idea how extensive the organization is; we barely know anything about it, except that it is involved in weapons as drug sales as well. Most of what we have on them is just assumption."

"Be careful, Jason."

"I will. I…would be okay with tackling this head on, even though I'd rather not face that kind of danger again—if it were just me. But it's not. I have to consider Connie in all this, and I can't risk leaving her, especially after all that's happened." Connie gave him an appreciative glance from where she stood by the window.

"I'd rather you stick to tamer adventures myself. There have been too many times in the past few years when I thought I would lose you."

A pang struck Jason's heart at this. Somehow, he'd rarely thought of what his father would feel if he lost him as well as Jerry. Partly because his father knew this business; he'd practically gotten Jason into it. He knew the risks. And partly because, for most of his adult life, Jason had felt invincible. Gray, however, had shattered that image of himself.

"Speaking of which," said Jason, "Sierra called today with news about Ai."

"Has she found her?" Jason's heart broke at the hope in his father's voice.

"I'm sorry, Dad."

"She—she's gone?"

"The communists killed her, a long time ago."

"Oh…Jason." For a moment he didn't speak. When he did, his voice was thick with emotion, hoarse, as if he were holding back tears. "It would have been so wonderful to bring a part of Jerry's life into ours again."

"Maybe we still can."

"What do you mean?"

Jason told him about Ai's son—that he was a communist, that he had fled to the Philippines, that he had a daughter.

"I have another grandson!" his father said, renewed hope in his voice. "And a great-granddaughter. They can't be living in too pleasant of conditions after being kicked out of the communist party and becoming refugees."

"I hadn't thought of that."

"We need to bring them home. I wonder….You couldn't give me Sierra's number, could you?"

"Sure. You want her to give you updates too?"

"More than that. I want to go there."

"Dad—maybe you should just let Sierra—"

"I've been around the block, Jason. And I'm not that old—not as having a great-granddaughter would suggest. I can't just sit around here while I have family on the other side of the world."

"Be careful, Dad. There could be bad neighborhoods."

"That's true. But that's why I have to go. If they're in a desperate situation—I have to help them."

"I wish I could go. Maybe I'll join you when I'm finished here—if you haven't found them already. It'll probably be a long, involving process to bring them back to the States."

"It will. It still hardly seems real. It probably won't, till I see them with my own eyes."

"Do you want to talk to Connie?"

"I'd love to."

"And Dad—I think she'd like it if you'd tell her the story of how you saved Muldavia."

His father chuckled. "I'll do that. It's time she knew one of the deepest Whittaker secrets."

Jason held out the phone for Connie and she grabbed it, pressed it to her ear. "Whit! I have so much to tell you!"

Connie paced the room talking to his father for about an hour. There was a long silence punctuated with gasps and cries and "Really? No way!" When the story was apparently finished, she said, "That's awesome!" and turned to Jason, lifting the phone away a little. "Jason, your father was a king! For a day! No wonder you look like the king and the prince." She lifted the phone back to her ear and told him about staying in the palace.

Meanwhile, Jason showered and then made a fire in the fireplace. A smoky smell drifted through the room, reminding Jason of campfires he'd sat around with his family, long ago…

After Connie hung up, she sat beside him in one of the high-backed red chairs. "It's amazing that both you and your dad saved Muldavia."

"Whenever he tells that story, I'm always impressed with how heroic he was, even though he tones down what he did."

"Yeah…." She leaned forward, her elbows on her thighs, her eyes reflecting the fire.

"We both care for this country. I wonder if Dad would want to come back here…after we find Tam and—" For a second, he forgot the little girl's name.

"Mai?"

"Yes, Mai."

"That's crazy, your dad going there!"

"I don't know if it's the best idea."

"No, I mean—it's all crazy. That you have a long-lost nephew! In the Philippines. It's all going to work out after all."

"I don't want to dash your hopes—and I didn't want to mention it to Dad. He was so excited. But they might not want anything to do with us."

"They won't want to meet their family?"

"He pretty much rejected his father and everything he stood for. Let's just hope he's had a change of heart. Otherwise….we may never meet them."

Connie's brow furrowed, sorrow glittering in her eyes. "I don't want to think about that. There has to be a happy ending after all of this."

He nodded. "With Tam and Mai, and Ben and Luna, and—" He stopped himself. He was about to say "us" and something about a baby.

Connie leaned back. "I have to trust God that he knows what he's doing. Maybe he has healed me, who knows. I just…really hope that I'm not pregnant. I don't feel ready yet. Someday we can try again…just not for a while."

"It's only been two months. If you're okay with it—a year from now—"

She nodded and caught his eyes, a slight smile on her lips.

He climbed into bed and then he felt her lay down behind him. She slid her arm beneath his, searching for his hand, and he laced his fingers in hers.

* * *

"Jason!"

He jolted awake, his heart slamming hard against his chest. Connie's face, pale in the dark, her eyes wide.

"What is it? Are you okay?" He sat up beside her and drew her close, her body shaking. Then she pulled away a little, her hair tangled, tears gleaming across her cheeks.

"Connie—what happened?"

She swept her tangled hair back. "I had the dream again. The one where you were—" She closed her eyes. "It was worse. I saw the agent, you know, the one Markov showed us. Just pictures. Then the pictures came to life, and it wasn't the agent, it was you, and—Jason, please don't go into any kind of danger."

"I wasn't planning to."

"Maybe we should just leave. I can't lose you. I can't—lose anyone else."

"I'm not going anywhere, Connie. We can leave if you want."

"I know we have to try to find Ben….we promised. I just wish I could do more. And I wish there wasn't any chance of you getting hurt."

"There's not much of a chance."

"Markov said they warned them to stop investigating! What if…"

"How about this. If I see any sign of danger, I'll pull out. I'll let Sierra handle this, once she's done with the investigation in Southeast Asia. That's what I was going to do anyway, but I'd be even more cautious."

She looked up at him, her face caressed by moonlight, and he couldn't help but lean down, meet her lips in a gentle kiss. The kiss grew stronger, and morphed into more kisses, her lips against his cheek and jaw. But then she pulled away, a hint of regret in her eyes.

In the morning, Jason climbed out of bed, careful not to wake her, snatched a quick breakfast, and headed out to the police station in the capital.


End file.
